NIVERSITY  0     CA      ORNIA   SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  00204  6084 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAL  FORNIA   SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  00204  6084 

' 


Woo. 


\j.\ 


WORKS    OF    EDWARD    FITZGERALD. 


% 


AMERICAN    PEOPLE, 

WHOSE  EARLY  APPRECIATION  OF  THE  GENIUS  OF 
EDWARD    FITZGERALD 

WAS  THE 

CHIEF  STIMULANT  OF   THAT  CURIOSITY 

BY    WHICH    HIS    NAME    WAS    DRAWN    FROM    ITS    ANONYMOUS 

CONCEALMENT    AND    ADVANCED    TO    THE    POSITION 

OF   HONOUR  WHICH  IT  NOW  HOLDS, 

THIS  EDITION  OF  HIS  WORKS  IS  DEDICATED 

BY 
THE    EDITOR. 


BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE. 


TjlDWARD  FITZGERALD,  whom  the  world  lias 
*-^  already  learned,  in  spite  of  his  own  efforts  to 
remain  within  the  shadow  of  anonymity,  to  look  upon 
as  one  of  the  rarest  poets  of  the  century,  was  born  at 
Bredfield  in  Suffolk,  on  the  31st  March,  1809.  He  was 
the  third  son  of  John  Purcell,  of  Kilkenny  in  Ireland, 
who,  marrying  Miss  Mary  Frances  Fitzgerald,  daughter 
of  John  Fitzgerald,  of  William stown,  County  Water- 
ford,  added  that  distinguished  name  to  his  own  patro- 
nymic ;  and  the  future  Omar  was  thus  doubly  of  Irish 
extraction.  (Both  the  families  of  Purcell  and  Fitz- 
gerald claim  descent  from  Norman  warriors  of  the 
eleventh  century.)  This  circumstance  is  thought  to 
have  had  some  influence  in  attracting  him  to  the  study 
of  Persian  poetry,  Iran  and  Erin  being  almost  con- 
vertible terms  in  the  early  days  of  modern  ethnology. 
After  some  years  of  primary  education  at  the  grammar 
school  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  he  entered  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  in  1826,  and  there  formed  acquaintance 
with  several  young  men  of  great  abilities,  most  of 


Vlll  BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE. 

whom  rose  to  distinction  before  him,  but  never  ceased 
to  regard  with  affectionate  remembrance  the  quiet  and 
amiable  associate  of  their  college-days.  Amongst  them 
were  Alfred  Tennyson,  Jarnes  Spedding,  William  Bod- 
ham  Donne,  John  Mitchell  Kemble,  and  William 
Makepeace  Thackeray ;  and  their  long  friendship  has 
been  touchingly  referred  to  by  the  Laureate  in  dedi- 
cating his  last  poem  to  the  memory  of  Edward  Fitzger- 
ald. u  Euphranor,"  our  author's  earliest  printed  work, 
affords  a  curious  picture  of  his  academic  life  and 
associations.  Its  substantial  reality  is  .evident  beneath 
the  thin  disguise  of  the  symbolical  or  classical  names 
which  he  gives  to  the  personages  of  the  colloquy ;  and 
the  speeches  which  he  puts  into  his  own  mouth  are  full 
of  the  humorous  gravity,  the  whimsical  and  kindly 
philosophy,  which  remained  his  distinguishing  charac- 
teristics till  the  end.  This  book  was  first  published  in 
1851 ;  a  second  and  a  third  edition  were  printed  some 
years  later ;  all  anonymous,  and  each  of  the  latter  two 
differing  from  its  predecessor  by  changes  in  the  text 
which  were  not  indicated  on  the  title-pages. 

"Euphranor"  furnishes  a  good  many  characteriza- 
tions which  would  be  useful  for  any  writer  treating 
upon  Cambridge  society  in  the  third  decade  of  this  cen- 
tury. Keuelm  Digby,  the  author  of  the  "  Broadstone 
of  Honour,"  had  left  Cambridge  before  the  time  when 
Euphranor  held  his  "  dialogue,"  but  he  is  picturesquely 
recollected  as  "  a  grand  swarthy  fellow  who  might  have 
stepped  out  of  the  canvas  of  some  knightly  portrait  in 


BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE.  IX 

his  father's  hall  —  perhaps  the  living  image  of  one 
sleeping  under  some  cross-legged  effigies  in  the  church." 
In  "  Euphranor,"  it  is  easy  to  discover  the  earliest 
phase  of  the  unconquerable  attachment  which  Fitz- 
gerald entertained  for  his  college  and  his  life-long 
friends,  and  which  induced  him  in  later  days  to  make 
frequent  visits  to  Cambridge,  renewing  and  refreshing 
the  old  ties  of  custom  and  friendship.  In  fact,  his 
disposition  was  affectionate  to  a  fault,  and  he  betrayed 
his  consciousness  of  weakness  in  that  respect  by  refer- 
ring playfully  at  times  to  "a  certain  natural  lubricity" 
which  he  attributed  to  the  Irish  character,  and  pro- 
fessed to  discover  especially  in  himself.  This  amiability 
of  temper  endeared  him  to  many  friends  of  totally 
dissimilar  tastes  and  qualities ;  and,  by  enlarging  his 
sympathies,  enabled  him  to  enjoy  the  fructifying  influ- 
ence of  studies  pursued  in  communion  with  scholars 
more  profound  than  himself,  but  less  gifted  with  the 
power  of  expression.  One  of  the  younger  Cambridge 
men  with  whom  he  became  intimate  during  his  peri- 
odical pilgrimages  to  the  university  was  Edward  B. 
Cowell,  a  man  of  the  highest  attainment  in  Oriental 
learning,  who  resembled  Fitzgerald  himself  in  the  pos- 
session of  a  warm  and  genial  heart,  and  of  the  most 
unobtrusive  modesty.  From  Cowell  he  could  easily  learn 
that  the  hypothetical  affinity  between  the  names  of  Erin 
and  Iran  belonged  to  an  obsolete  stage  of  etymology ;. 
but  the  attraction  of  a  far-fetched  theory  was  replaced 
by  the  charm  of  reading  Persian  poetry  in  companion- 


X  BIOGRAPHICAL     PEEFACE. 

ship  with  his  young  friend  who  was  equally  competent 
to  enjoy  and  to  analyse  the  beauties  of  a  literature  that 
formed  a  portion  of  his  regular  studies.  They  read 
together  the  poetical  remains  of  Khayyam  —  a  choice 
of  reading  which  sufficiently  indicates  the  depth  and 
range  of  Mr.  Cowell's  knowledge.  Omar  Khayyam, 
although  not  quite  forgotten,  enjoyed  in  the  history  of 
Persian  literature  a  celebrity  like  that  of  Occleve  and 
Gower  in  our  own.  In  the  many  Tazkimt  (memoirs 
or  memorials)  of  Poets,  he  was  mentioned  and  quoted 
with  esteem ;  but  his  poems,  labouring  as  they  did  under 
the  original  sin  of  heresy  and  atheism,  were  seldom 
looked  at,  and  from  lack  of  demand  on  the  part  of 
readers,  had  become  rarer  than  those  of  most  other 
writers  since  the  days  of  Firdausi.  European  scholars 
knew  little  of  his  works  beyond  his  Arabic  treatise  on 
Algebra,  and  Mr.  Cowell  may  be  said  to  have  disen- 
tombed his  poems  from  oblivion.  Now,  thanks  to  the 
fine  taste  of  that  scholar,  and  to  the  transmuting 
genius  of  Fitzgerald,  no  Persian  poet  is  so  well  known 
in  the  western  world  as  Abu-'l-fat'h  7Omar  son  of 
Ibrahim  the  Tentmaker  of  Naishapiir,  whose  manhood 
synchronises  with  the  Norman  conquest  of  England, 
and  who  took  for  his  poetic  name  (taklmTlHx)  the 
designation  of  his  father's  trade  (KJiaijt/tinij.  The 
Rubd'iyydt  (Quatrains)  do  not  compose  a  single  poem 
divided  into  a  certain  number  of  stanzas  ;  there  is  no 
continuity  of  plan  in  them,  and  each  stanza  is  a  dis- 
tinct thought  expressed  in  musical  verse.  There  is  no 


BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE.  xi 

other  element  of  unity  in  them  than  the  general  ten- 
dency of  the  Epicurean  idea,  and  the  arbitrary  divan 
form  by  which  they  are  grouped  according  to  the 
alphabetical  arrangement  of  the  final  letters ;  those 
in  which  the  rhymes  end  in  a  constituting  the  first 
di vision ,  those  with  &  the  second,  and  so  on.  The 
peculiar  attitude  towards  religion  and  the  old  questions 
of  fate,  immortality,  the  origin  and  the  destiny  of  man, 
which  educated  thinkers  have  assumed  in  the  present 
age  of  Christendom,  is  found  admirably  foreshadowed 
in  the  fantastic  verses  of  Khayyam,  who  was  no  more 
of  a  Mohammedan  than  many  of  our  best  writers  are 
Christians.  His  philosophical  and  Horatian  fancies  — 
graced  as  they  are  by  the  charms  of  a  lyrical  expression 
equal  to  that  of  Horace,  and  a  vivid  brilliance  of  im- 
agination to  which  the  Roman  poet  could  make  no 
claim — exercised  a  powerful  influence  upon  Fitzger- 
ald's mind,  and  coloured  his  thoughts  to  such  a  degree 
that  even  when  he  oversteps  the  largest  licence  allowed 
to  a  translator,  his  phrases  reproduce  the  spirit  and 
manner  of  his  original  with  a  nearer  approach  to 
perfection  than  would  appear  possible.  It  is  usually 
supposed  that  there  is  more  of  Fitzgerald  than  of 
Khayyam  in  the  English  RuM'iyydt,  and  that  the 
old  Persian  simply  afforded  themes  for  the  Anglo- 
Irishman's  display  of  poetic  power ;  but  nothing  could 
be  further  from  the  truth.  The  French  translator,  J. 
B.  Nicolas,  and  the  English  one,  Mr.  Whinfield,  supply 
a  closer  mechanical  reflection  of  the  sense  in  each 


Xll  BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE. 

separate  stanza ;  but  Mr.  Fitzgerald  has,  in  some 
instances,  given  a  version  equally  close  and  exact ;  in 
others,  rejointed  scattered  phrases  from  more  than  one 
stanza  of  his  original,  and  thus  accomplished  a  feat  of 
marvellous  poetical  transfusion.  He  frequently  turns 
literally  into  English  the  strange  outlandish  imagery 
which  Mr.  Whinfield  thought  necessary  to  replace  by 
more  intelligible  banalities,  and  in  this  way  the  magic 
of  his  genius  has  successfully  transplanted  into  the 
garden  of  English  poesy  exotics  that  bloom  like  native 
flowers. 

One  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  Woodbridge  friends  was 
Bernard  Barton,  the  Quaker  poet,  with  whom  he  main- 
tained for  many  years  the  most  intimate  and  cordial 
intercourse,  and  whose  daughter  Lucy  he  married. 
He  wrote  the  memoir  of  his  friend's  life  which  appeared 
in  the  posthumous  volume  of  Barton's  poems.  The  story 
of  his  married  life  was  a  short  one.  With  all  the  over- 
flowing amiability  of  his'  nature,  there  were  mingled 
certain  peculiarities  or  waywardnesses  which  were  more 
suitable  to  the  freedom  of  celibacy  than  to  the  staid- 
ness  of  matrimonial  life.  A  separation  took  place  by 
mutual  agreement,  and  Fitzgerald  behaved  in  this  cir- 
cumstance with  the  generosity  and  unselfishness  which 
were  apparent  in  all  his  whims  no  less  than  in  his 
more  deliberate  actions.  Indeed,  his  entire  career 
was  marked  by  an  unchanging  goodness  of  heart 
and  a  genial  kindliness;  and  no  one  could  complain 
of  having  ever  endured  hurt  or  ill-treatment  at  his 


BIOGRAPHICAL    PREFACE.  Xlll 

hands.  His  pleasures  were  innocent  and  simple. 
Amongst  the  more  delightful,  he  counted  the  short 
coasting  trips,  occupying  no  more  than  a  day  or  two  at 
a  time,  which  he  used  to  make  in  his  own  yacht  from 
Lowestoft,  accompanied  only  by  a  crew  of  two  men, 
and  such  a  friend  as  Cowell,  with  a  large  pasty  and 
a  few  bottles  of  wine  to  supply  their  material  wants. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  books  were  also  put  into  the 
cabin,  and  that  the  symposia  of  the  friends  were  thus 
brightened  by  communion  with  the  minds  of  the  great 
departed.  Fitzgerald's  enjoyment  of  gnomic  wisdom  en- 
shrined in  words  of  exquisite  propriety  was  evinced  by 
the  frequency  with  which  he  used  to  read  Montaigne's 
essays  and  Madame  de  Sevigne's  letters,  and  the  vari- 
ous works  from  which  he  extracted  and  published 
his  collection  of  wise  saws  entitled  "Polonius."  This 
taste  was  allied  to  a  love  for  what  was  classical  and 
correct  in  literature,  by  which  he  was  also  enabled  to 
appreciate  the  prim  and  formal  muse  of  Crabbe,  in 
whose  grandson's  house  he  died. 

His  second  printed  work  was  the  "  Polonius,"  already 
referred  to,  which  appeared  in  1852.  It  exemplifies  his 
favourite  reading,  being  a  collection  of  extracts,  some- 
times short  proverbial  phrases,  sometimes  longer 
pieces  of  characterization  or  reflection,  arranged  under 
abstract  headings.  He  occasionally  quotes  Dr.  John- 
son, for  whom  he  entertained  sincere  admiration ;  but 
the  ponderous  and  artificial  fabric  of  Johnsonese  did 
not  please  him  like  the  language  of  Bacon,  Fuller,  Sir 


XIV  BIOGRAPHICAL    PREFACE. 

Thomas  Browne,  Coleridge,  whom  he  cites  frequently. 
A  disproportionate  abundance  of  wise  words  was  drawn 
from  Carlyle;  his  original  views,  his  forcible  sense,  and 
the  friendship  with  which  Fitzgerald  regarded  him, 
having  apparently  blinded  the  latter  to  the  ungainly 
style  and  ungraceful  mannerisms  of  the  Chelsea  sage. 
(It  was  Thackeray  who  first  made  them  personally 
acquainted  nearly  forty  years  ago;  and  Fitzgerald 
remained  always  loyal  to  his  first  instincts  of  affection 
and  admiration.*)  Polonius  also  marks  the  period  of 
his  earliest  attention  to  Persian  studies,  as  he  quotes  in 
it  the  great  Sufi  poet  Jalal-ud-din-Rumi,  whose  masnavi 
has  lately  been  translated  into  English  by  Mr.  Redhouse, 
but  whom  Fitzgerald  can  only  have  seen  in  the  original. 
He,  however,  spells  the  name  JaUaladin,  an  incorrect 
form  of  which  he  could  not  have  been  guilty  at  the 
time  when  he  produced  Omar  Khayyam,  and  which 
thus  betrays  that  he  had  not  long  been  engaged  with 
Irani  literature.  He  was  very  fond  of  Montaigne's 
essays,  and  of  Pascal's  Pensees  ;  but  his  Polonius 
reveals  a  sort  of  dislike  and  contempt  for  Voltaire. 

*  The  close  relation  that  subsisted  between  Fitzgerald  and  Carlyle 
has  lately  been  made  patent  by  an  article  in  the  Historical  Ecvieir 
upon  the  Squire  papers,  —  those  celebrated  documents  purporting 
to  be  contemporary  records  of  Cromwell's  time,  —  which  were  ac- 
cepted by  Carlyle  as  genuine,  but  which  other  scholars  have 
asserted  from  internal  evidence  to  be  modern  forgeries.  However 
the  question  may  Vie  decided,  the  fact  which  concerns  us  here  is 
that  our  poet  was  the  negotiator  between  Mr.  Squire  and  Carlyle. 
and  that  his  correspondence  with  the  latter  upon  the  subject 
reveals  the  intimate  nature  of  their  acquaintance. 


< 


BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE.  XV 

Amongst  the  Germans,  Jean  Paul,  Goethe,  Alexander 
.von  Hmnboldt,  and  August  Wilhelm  von  Schlegel 
attracted  him  greatly ;  but  he  seems  to  have  read  little 
German,  and  probably  only  quoted  translations.  His 
favourite  motto  was  "Plain  Living  and  High  Thinking," 
and  he  expresses  great  reverence  for  all  things  manly, 
simple,  and  true.  The  laws  and  institutions  of  England 
were,  in  his  eyes,  of  the  highest  value  and  sacredness ; 
and  whatever  Irish  sympathies  he  had  would  never  have 
diverted  his  affections  from  the  Union  to  Home  Rule. 
This  is  strongly  illustrated  by  some  original  lines  of 
blank  verse  at  the  end  of  Polouius,  annexed  to  his  quo- 
tation, under  "^Esthetics,"  of  the  words  in  which  Lord 
Palmerston  eulogised  Mr.  Gladstone  for  having  devoted 
his  Neapolitan  tour  to  an  inspection  of  the  prisons. 

Fitzgerald's  next  printed  work  was  a  translation  of 
Six  Dramas  of  Calderon,  published  in  1853,  which  was 
unfavourably  received  at  the  time,  and  consequently 
withdrawn  by  him  from  circulation.  His  name  appeared 
on  the  title-page, —  a  concession  to  publicity  which  was 
so  unusual  with  him  that  it  must  have  been  made  under 
strong  pressure  from  his  friends.  The  book  is  in  ner- 
vous blank  verse,  a  mode  of  composition  which  he  han- 
dled with  great  ease  and  skill.  There  is  no  waste  of 
power  in  diffuseness  and  no  employment  of  unnecessary 
epithets.  It  gives  the  impression  of  a  work  of  the 
Shakespearean  age,  and  reveals  a  kindred  felicity, 
strength,  and  directness  of  language.  It  deserves 
to  rank  with  his  best  efforts  in  poetry,  but  its  ill- 


XVI  BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE. 

success  made  him  feel  that  the  publication  of  his  name 
was  an  unfavourable  experiment,  and  he  never  again 
repeated  it.  His  great  modesty,  however,  would  suffi- 
ciently account  for  this  shyness.  Of  "  Omar  Khayyam/1 
even  after  the  little  book  had  won  its  way  to  general 
esteem,  he  used  to  say  that  the  suggested  addition  of 
his  name  on  the  title  would  imply  an  assumption  of 
importance  which  he  considered  that  his  "  transmogri- 
fication "  of  the  Persian  poet  did  not  possess. 

Fitzgerald's  conception  of  a  translator's  privilege  is 
well  set  forth  in  the  prefaces  of  his  versions  from  Cal- 
deron,  and  the  Agamemnon  of  ^Eschylus.  He  main- 
tained that,  in  the  absence;  of  the  perfect  poet,  who  shall 
re-create  in  his  own  language  the  body  and  soul  of  his 
original,  the  best  system  is  that  of  a  paraphrase  con- 
serving the  spirit  of  the  author, —  a  sort  of  literary 
metempsychosis.  Calderon,  ^Eschylus.  and  Omar 
Khayyam  were  all  treated  with  equal  licence,  so  far  as 
form  is  concerned, —  the  last,  perhaps,  the  most  arbi- 
trarily ;  but  the  result  is  not  unsatisfactory  as  having 
given  us  perfect  English  poems  instinct  with  the  true 
flavour  of  their  prototypes.  The  Persian  was  prob- 
ably somewhat  more  Horatian  and  less  melancholy,  the 
Greek  a  little  less  florid  and  mystic,  the  Spaniard  more 
lyrical  and  fluent,  than  their  metaphrast  has  made 
them ;  but  the  essential  spirit  has  not  escaped  in  trans- 
fusion. Only  a  man  of  singular  gifts  could  have 
performed  the  achievement,  and  these  works  attest  Mr. 
Fitzgerald's  right  to  rank  amongst  the  finest  poets  of 


BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE.  XVli 

the  century.  About  the  same  time  as  he  printed  his 
Calderon,  another  set  of  translations  from  the  same 
dramatist  was  published  by  the  late  D.  F.  MacCarthy  ; 
a  scholar  whose  acquaintance  with  Castilian  literature 
was  much  deeper  than  Mr.  Fitzgerald's,  and  who  also 
possessed  poetical  abilities  of  no  mean  order,  with  a 
totally  different  sense  of  the  translator's  duty.  The 
popularity  of  MacCarthy's  versions  has  been  considera- 
ble, and  as  an  equivalent  rendering  of  the  original  in 
sense  and  form  his  work  is  valuable.  Spaniards  familiar 
with  the  English  language  rate  its  merit  highly;  but 
there  can  be  little  question  of  the  very  great  superiority 
of  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  work  as  a  contribution  to  English 
literature.  It  is  indeed  only  from  this  point  of  view 
that  we  should  regard  all  the  literary  labours  of  our 
author.  They  are  English  poetical  work  of  fine  quality, 
dashed  with  a  pleasant  outlandish  flavour  which 
heightens  their  charm  ;  and  it  is  as  English  poems,  not 
as  translations,  that  they  have  endeared  themselves 
even  more  to  the  American  English  than  to  the  mixed 
Britons  of  England. 

It  was  an  occasion  of  no  small  moment  to  Mr.  Fitz- 
gerald's fame,  and  to  the  intellectual  gratification  of 
many  thousands  of  readers,  when  he  took  his  little 
packet  of  Rubd'iyydt  to  Mr.  Quaritch  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  year  1858.  It  was  printed  as  a  small  quarto 
pamphlet,  bearing  the  publisher's  name  but  not  the 
author's ;  and  although  apparently  a  complete  failure 
at  first, —  a  failure  which  Mr.  Fitzgerald  regretted  less 


xviii  BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE. 

on  his  own  account  than  on  that  of  his  publisher,  to 
whom  he  had  generously  made  a  present  of  the  book, — 
received,  nevertheless,  a  sufficient  distribution  by  being 
quickly  reduced  from  the  price  of  five  shillings  and 
placed  in  the  box  of  cheap  books  marked  a  penny  each. 
Thus  forced  into  circulation,  the  two  hundred  copies 
which  had  been  printed  were  soon  exhausted.  Among 
the  buyers  were  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti,  Mr.  S win- 
bourne.  Captain  (now  Sir  Richard)  Burton,  and  Mr. 
William  Simpson,  the  accomplished  artist  of  the  Illus- 
trated London  Neivs.  The  influence  exercised  by  the 
first  three,  especially  by  Rossetti,  upon  a  clique  of 
young  men  who  have  since  grown  to  distinction,  was 
sufficient  to  attract  observation  to  the  singular  beauties 
of  the  poem  anonymously  translated  from  the  Persian. 
Most  readers  had  no  possible  opportunity  of  discover- 
ing whether  it  was  a  disguised  original  or  an  actual 
translation ;  —  even  Captain  Burton  enjoyed  probably 
but  little  chance  of  seeing  a  manuscript  of  the  Persian 
Ruba'iyyat.  The  Oriental  imagery  and  allusions  were 
too  thickly  scattered  throughout  the  verses  to  favour 
the  notion  that  they  could  be  the  original  work  of  an 
Englishman  ;  yet  it  was  shrewdly  suspected  by  most  of 
the  appreciative  readers  that  the  "  translator  "  was  sub- 
stantially the  author  and  creator  of  the  poem.  In  the 
refuge  of  his  anonymity,  Fitzgerald  derived  an  inno- 
cent gratification  from  the  curiosity  that  was  aroused 
on  all  sides.  After  the  first  edition  had  disappeared, 
inquiries  for  the  little  book  became  frequent,  and 


BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE.  xix 

in  the  year  1868  he  gave  the  MS.  of  his  second  edi- 
tion to  Mr.  Quaritch,  and  the  Ruba'iyyat  came  into 
circulation  once  more,  but  with  several  alterations  and 
additions  by  which  the  number  of  stanzas  was  some- 
what increased  beyond  the  original  seventy-five.  Most 
of  the  changes  were,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
improvements ;  but  in  some  instances  the  author's 
taste  or  caprice  was  at  fault, — notably  in  the  first 
RulxViy.  His  fastidious  desire  to  avoid  anj'thing  that 
seemed  baroque  or  unnatural,  or  appeared  like  plagia- 
rism from  other  poets,  may  have  influenced  him ;  but 
whether  from  this  cause,  or  from  some  secret  reason 
that  we  cannot  divine,  he  sacrificed  a  fine  and  novel  piece 
of  imagery  in  his  first  stanza  and  replaced  it  by  one  of 
much  more  ordinary  character.  If  it  were  from  a  dis- 
like to  pervert  his  original  too  largely,  he  had  no  need 
to  be  so  scrupulous,  since  he  dealt  on  the  whole  with 
the  Ruba'iyyat  as  though  he  had  the  licence  of  absolute 
authorship,  changing,  transposing,  and  manipulating 
the  substance  of  the  Persian  quatrains  with  singular 
freedom.  The  vogue  of  "  old  Omar"  (as  he  would 
affectionately  call  his  work)  went  on  increasing,  and 
American  readers  took  it  up  with  eagerness.  In  those 
days,  the  mere  mention  of  Omar  Khayyam  between 
two  strangers  meeting  fortuitously  acted  like  a  sign  of 
freemasonry  and  established  frequently  a  bond  of 
friendship.  Some  curious  instances  of  this  have  been 
related.  A  remarkable  feature  of  the  Omar-cult  in  the 
United  States  was  the  circumstance  that  sinle  indi- 


XX  BIOGRAPHICAL     PREFACE. 

viduals  bought  numbers  of  copies  for  gratuitous  distri- 
bution before  the  book  was  reprinted  in  America.  Its 
editions  have  been  relatively  numerous,  when  we  con- 
sider how  restricted  was  the  circle  of  readers  who  could 
understand  the  peculiar  beauties  of  the  work.  A  third 
edition  appeared  in  1872,  with  some  further  alterations, 
and  this  may  be  regarded  as  virtually  the  author's  final 
revision,  for  it  hardly  differs  at  all  from  the  text  of  the 
fourth  edition,  which  appeared  in  1879.  This  last  formed 
the  first  portion  of  a  volume  entitled  "  Rubaiyat  of  Omar 
Khayyam ;  and  the  Salaman  and  Absal  of  Jami  •  ren- 
dered into  English  verse."  The  Salaman  (which  had  al- 
ready been  printed  in  separate  form  in  1856)  is  a  poem 
chiefly  in  blank  verse,  interspersed  with  various  metres 
(although  it  is  all  in  one  measure  in  the  original) 
embodying  a  love-story  of  mystic  significance;  for 
Jami  was,  unlike  Omar  Khayyam,  a  true  Sufi,  and 
indeed  differed  in  other  respects,  his  celebrity  as  a  pious 
Mussulman  doctor  being  equal  to  his  fame  as  a  poet. 
He  lived  in  the  fifteenth  century,  in  a  period  of  literary 
brilliance  and  decay ;  and  the  rich  exuberance  of  his 
poetry,  full  of  far-fetched  conceits,  involved  expres- 
sions, overstrained  imagery,  and  false  taste,  offers  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  simpler  and  more  forcible  lan- 
guage of  Khayyam.  There  is  little  use  of  Arabic  in  the 
earlier  poet ;  he  preferred  the  vernacular  speech  to 
the  mongrel  language  which  was  fashionable  among 
the  heirs  of  the  Saracen  conquerors ;  but  J  ami's  compo- 
sition is  largely  embroidered  with  Arabic. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    PREFACE.  XXI 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  had  from  his  early  days  been  thrown 
into  contact  with  the  Crabbe  family;  the  Reverend 
George  Crabbe  (the  poet's  grandson)  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  his,  and  it  was  on  a  visit  to  Morton  Rectory 
that  Fitzgerald  died.  As  we  know  that  friendship  has 
power  to  warp  the  judgment,  we  shall  not  probably  be 
wrong  in  supposing  that  his  enthusiastic  admiration 
for  Crabbe's  poems  was  not  the  product  of  sound,  impar- 
tial criticism.  He  attempted  to  reintroduce  them  to 
the  world  by  publishing  a  little  volume  of  "  Readings 
from  Crabbe,"  produced  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  but 
without  success.  A  different  fate  awaited  his  "Aga- 
memnon :  a  tragedy  taken  from  ^Eschylus,"  which  was 
first  printed  privately  by  him,  and  afterwards  pub- 
lished with  alterations  in  1876.  It  is  a  very  free  render- 
ing from  the  Greek,  and  full  of  a  poetical  beauty  which 
is  but  partly  assignable  to  ^Eschylus.  Without  attain- 
ing to  anything  like  the  celebrity  and  admiration  which 
have  followed  Omar  Khayyam,  the  Agamemnon  has 
achieved  much  more  than  a  succes  d'estime.  Mr.  Fitz- 
gerald's renderings  from  the  Greek  were  not  confined 
to  this  one  essay ;  he  also  translated  the  two  OEdipus 
dramas  of  Sophocles,  but  left  them  unfinished  in  manu- 
script till  Mr.  Elliot  Norton  had  a  sight  of  them  about 
five  or  six  years  ago  and  urged  him  to  complete  his 
work.  When  this  was  done,  he  had  them  set  in  type, 
but  only  a  very  few  proofs  can  have  been  struck  off,  as 
it  seems  that,  at  least  in  England,  no  more  than  a  single 
copy  was  sent  out  by  the  author.  In  a  similar  way  he 


XXll  BIOGRAPHICAL    PREFACE. 

printed  translations  of  two  of  Calderon's  plays  not 
included  in  the  published  "  Six  Dramas  " —  namely,  La 
Vida  es  Suefw,  and  El  Magico  Prodigioso,  (both  ranking 
among  the  Spaniard's  finest  work ; )  but  they  also 
were  withheld  from  the  public  and  all  but  half  a  dozen 
friends. 

When  his  old  boatman  died,  about  ten  years  ago,  he 
abandoned  his  nautical  exercises  and  gave  up  his  yacht 
for  ever.  During  the  last  few  years  of  his  life,  he 
divided  his  time  between  Cambridge,  Crabbe's  house, 
and  his  own  home  at  Little  Grange,  near  Woodbridge, 
where  he  received  occasional  visits  from  friends  and 
relatives. 

This  edition  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  works  is  a  modest 
memorial  of  one  of  the  most  modest  men  who  have 
ever  enriched  English  literature  with  poetry  of  distinct 
and  permanent  value.  His  best  epitaph  is  found  in 
Tennyson's  "'Tiresias  and  other  poems,"  published 
immediately  after  our  author's  quiet  exit  from  life,  in 
1883,  in  the  seventy-fifth  year  of  his  age. 

JANUARY,  1887. 


> 


kN 


ED WA RD    FITZGERALD. 


Though  still  the  famous  Book  of  Kings 
With  strange  memorial  music  rings, 
FirdausVs  muse  is  dead  and  gone 
As  Kai-kobad  and  Feridon, 
And  Rustum  and  his  pahlawan 
Are  cold  as  prehistoric  man. 

—  KHAYYAM  still  lives :  his  magic  rhyme 
Is  forged  of  spells  that  conquer  Time, 

The  hopes  and  doubts,  the  joys  and  pains, 

TJiat  never  end  while  Man  remains; 

The  sin,  the  sorrow,  and  the  strife 

Of  good  and  ill  in  human  life  ; 

Such  themes  can  ne'er  grow  stale  and  old 

—  Nor  can  the  verse  in  which  they're  told, 
Reflecting  as  it  does  each  phase 

Of  human  thought  and  human  ways. 
The  world  may  roll  through  ages  yet, 
New  stars  may  rise,  old  stars  may  set, 
But  like  the  grass  and  like  the  rain 
Some  things  for  ever  fresh  remain, 
Some  poets  whom  no  rust  can  touch 
-  KHAYYAM  and  HORACE  arc  of  such. 
But  while  we  knew  the  Roman 's  tongue, 
KHAYYAM  in  vain  for  us  had  sung, 


XXIV  EDWARD     FITZGERALD. 

Till  One  arose  on  English  earth 
Who  to  his  music  gave  new  birth. 
Henceforth,  so  long  as  English  speech 
Shall  through  tJie  coming  ages  reach, 
The  name  <?/"  KHAYYAM  will  go  down 
With  such  a  glory  of  renown 
As  ne'er  on  Eastern  poet's  brow 
Has  poured  its  radiance  until  now. 
—  And  Who  has  wrought' this  spell  of  might 
That  brings  the  hidden  gem  to  light?      ' 
'Twas  One  who  touched  his  harp,  unseen, 
Who  never  wished  to  lift  the  screen 
That  hid  him  from  the  outer  throng, 
But  blameless  lived  and  sang  his  song 
In  modest  tones,  not  over-loud, 
To  shun  the  plaudits  of  the  crowd. 
Now  that  we  know  him  —  now,  at  last, 
When  o'er  the  threshold  he  hath  passed  — 
We'll  love  with  love  that  knows  no  change 
The  Hermit-bard  of  Little  Grange. 

MlMKAF. 


OMAR    KHAYYAM'S    GRAVE. 


IN  reference  to  the  allusion  quoted  from  Nizami  (on 
page  6)  to  Omar  Khayyam's  prophecy  about  his  own 
grave,  the  following  letter  from  Nishapur  will  have  a 
considerable  interest.  The  writer  is  a  man  of  wide 
reputation  as  one  of  the  travelling  artists  of  the  Illus- 
trated London  News : 

NISHAPUR,  27th  October,  1884. 
DEAR  MR.  QUARITCH  : 

From  the  association  of  your  name  with  that  of  Omar 
Khayam  I  feel  sure  that  what  I  enclose  in  this  letter  will 
be  acceptable.  The  rose-leaves  I  gathered  to-day,  grow- 
ing beside  the  tomb  of  the  poet  at  this  place,  and  the 
seeds  are  from  the  same  bushes  on  which  the  leaves 


I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  I  left  early  last  month 
with  Sir  Peter  Lumsden  to  accompany  the  Afghan 
Boundary  Commission  in  my  old  capacity  as  special 
artist  for  the  Illustrated  London  Neics.  We  travelled  by 
way  of  the  Black  Sea,  Tin1  is,  Baku,  and  the  Caspian,  to 

*  These  seeds  were  handed  over  to  Mr.  Baker,  of  Kew  Gardens,  who 
planted  them,  and  they  have  grown  up  successfully,  but  as  yet  they  have 
not  produced  flowers. 


xxvi  OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE. 

Tehran  ;  from  that  place  we  have  been  marching  east- 
ward for  nearly  a  month  now,  and  we  reached  Nishapnr 
this  morning. 

For  some  days  past,  as  we  marched  along,  I  have  been 
making  inquiries  regarding  Omar  Khayam  and  Nish- 
apnr; I  wanted  to  know  if  the  house  he  lived  in  still 
existed,  or  if  any  spot  was  yet  associated  with  his  name. 
It  would  seem  that  the  only  recognised  memorial  now 
remaining  of  him  is  his  tomb.  Our  Mehmandar,  or 
"  (luest-Conductor,"  —  while  the  Afghan  Boundary  Com- 
mission is  on  Persian  territory  it  is  the  G-uest  of  the 
Shah,  and  the  Mehmandar  is  his  representative,  who 
sees  that  all  our  wants  are  attended  to,  —  appears  to  be 
familiar  with  the  poet's  name,  and  says  that  his  works 
are  still  read  and  admired.  The  Mehmandar  said  he 
knew  the  tomb,  and  promised  to  be  our  guide  when  we 
reached  Nishapur.  We  have  just  made  the  pilgrimage 
to  the  spot;  it  is  about  two  miles  south  of  the  pres- 
ent Nishapur  ;  so  we  had  to  ride,  and  Sir  Peter,  who 
takes  an  interest  in  the  matter,  was  one  of  the  party. 
We  found  the  ground  nearly  all  the  way  covered  with 
mounds,  and  the  soil  mixed  with  fragments  of  pottery, 
sure  indications  of  former  habitations.  As  we  neared 
the  tomb,  long  ridges  of  earth  could  be  seen,  which  were 
no  doubt  the  remains  of  the  walls  of  the  old  city  of 
Nishapur.  To  the  east  of  the  tomb  is  a  large  square 
mound  of  earth,  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  site  of  the 
Ark,  or  Citadel  of  the  original  city.  As  we  rode  along, 
the  blue  dome,  which  the  Mehmandar  had  pointed  out 
on  the  way  as  the  tomb,  had  a  very  imposing  appear- 
ance, and  its  importance  improved  as  we  neared  it  ; 
this  will  be  better  understood  by  stating  that  city 
walls,  houses,  and  almost  all  structures  in  that  part  of 
Persia,  are  built  of  mud.  The  blue  dome,  as  well  as  its 


l 


S* 


OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE.  xxvii 

size,  produced  in  my  mind,  as  we  went  towards  it,  a 
great  satisfaction ;  it  was  pleasing  to  think  that  the 
countrymen  of  Omar  Khayam  held  him  in  such  high 
estimation  as  to  erect  so  fine  a  monument,  as  well  as  to 
preserve  it, —  this  last  being  rarely  done  in  the  East, — 
to  his  memory.  If  the  poet  was  so  honoured  in  his  own 
country,  it  was  little  to  be  wondered  at  that  his  fame 
should  have  spread  so  rapidly  in  the  lands  of  the  West. 
This  I  thought,  but  there  was  a  slight  disappointment 
in  store  for  me.  At  last  we  reached  the  tomb,  and 
found  its  general  arrangements  were  on  a  plan  I  was 
familiar  with  in  India ;  whoever  has  visited  the  Taj  at 
Agra,  or  any  of  the  large  Mohammedan  tombs  of  Hin- 
dostan,  will  easily  understand  the  one  at  Nishapur. 
The  monument  stands  in  a  space  enclosed  by  a  mud 
wall,  and  the  ground  in  front  is  laid  out  as  a  garden, 
with  walks.  The  tomb  at  Nishapur,  with  all  its  sur- 
roundings, is  in  a  very  rude  condition  ;  it  never  was  a 
work  which  could  claim  merit  for  its  architecture,  and 
although  it  is  kept  so  far  in  repair,  it  has  still  a  very 
decayed  and  neglected  appearance.  Even  the  blue 
dome,  which  impressed  me  in  the  distance,  I  found  on 
getting  near  to  it  was  in  a  ruinous  state  from  large  por- 
tions of  the  enamelled  plaster  having  fallen  off.  Instead 
of  the  marble  and  the  red  stone  of  the  Taj  at  Nish- 
apur,—  with  the  exception  of  some  enamelled  tiles  pro- 
ducing a  pattern  round  the  base  of  the  dome,  and  also 
in  the  spandrils  of  the  door  and  windows,— there  we 
find  only  bricks  and  plaster.  The  surrounding  wall  of 
the  enclosure  was  of  crumbling  mud,  and  could  be 
easily  jumped  over  at  any  place.  There  is  a  rude 
entrance  by  which  we  went  in  and  walked  to  the  front 
of  the  tomb ;  all  along  I  had  been  under  the  notion  that 
the  whole  structure  was  the  tomb  of  Omar  Khayam ; 


xxviii  OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE. 

and  now  came  the  disenchantment.  The  place  turned 
out  to  be  an  Imamzadah,  or  the  tomb  of  the  Son  of  an 
Imam.  The  Son  of  an  Imam  inherits  his  sanctity  from 
his  father,  and  his  place  of  burial  becomes  a  holy  place 
where  pilgrims  go  to  pray.  The  blue  dome  is  over  the 
tomb  of  such  a  person,  who  may  have  been  a  brute  of 
the  worst  kind, —  that  would  not  have  affected  his 
sanctity, —  instead  of  the  poet,  whom  we  reverence  for 
the  qualities  which  belonged  to  himself.  When  we  had 
ascended  the  platform,  about  three  feet  high,  on  which 
the  tomb  stood,  the  Mehmandar  turned  to  the  left,  and 
in  a  recess  formed  by  three  arches  and  a  very  rude  roof, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  added  to  the  corner  of  the 
Imamzadah,  pointed  to  the  tomb  of  Omar  Khayam. 
The  discovery  of  a  "  Poet's  Corner"  at  Nishapur,  natu- 
rally recalled  Westminster  Abbey  to  my  mind  and 
revived  my  spirits  from  the  depression  produced  by 
finding  that  the  principal  tomb  was  not  that  of  the 
Poet.  The  monument  over  the  tomb  is  an  oblong  mass 
of  brick  covered  with  plaster,  and  without  ornament, — 
the  plaster  falling  off  in  places;  on  this  and  on  the 
plaster  of  the  recess  are  innumerable  scribblings  in 
Persian  character.  Some  were,  no  doubt,  names,  for 
the  British  John  Smith  has  not  an  exclusive  tendency 
in  this  respect ;  but  many  of  them  were  continued 
through  a  number  of  lines,  and  I  guessed  they  were 
poetry,  and  most  probably  quotations  from  the  Kubai- 
yat.  Although  the  "  Poet's  Corner "  was  in  rather  a 
dilapidated  state,  still  it  must  have  been  repaired  at 
no  very  distant  date  ;  and  this  shows  that  some  atten- 
tion has  been  paid  to  it,  and  that  the  people  of  Nisha- 
pur have  not  quite  forgotten  Omar  Khayam. 

The  Imamzadah — this  word,  which  means  Son  of  an 
Imam,  applies  to  the  person  buried  as  well  as  to  the 


OMAR   KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE.  xxix 

tomb — was  Mohammed  Marook,  brother  of  the  Imam 
Reza,  whose  tomb  at  Meshed  is  considered  so  sacred  by 
the  Shias; — the  Imam  Reza  was  the  eighth  Imam,  and 
died  in  818 ;  this  gives  us  an  approximate  date  for  his 
brother,  and  it  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  a  couple  of  centuries 
before  the  time  of  Omar  Khayam;  and  the  Imamza- 
dah— here  I  mean  the  building — would  have  been 
erected,  most  probably,  about  that  number  of  years  be- 
fore the  poet  required  his  resting  place.  Behind  the 
Imamzadah  is  a  Kubberstaii,  or  "  Region  of  Graves,"  and 
the  raised  platform  in  front  of  the  tomb  contains  in  its 
rough  pavement  a  good  many  small  tonib-stones,  shew- 
ing that  people  are  buried  there,  and  that  the  place  had 
been  in  the  past  a  general  grave-yard.  All  this  is  owing 
to  the  hereditary  sanctity  which  belongs  to  the  Son  of  an 
Imam,  arid  we  are  perhaps  indebted  to  Mohammed  Ma- 
rook,  no  matter  what  his  character  may  have  been,  for 
the  preservation  of  the  site  of  Omar  Khayam's  burial 
place ;  the  preservation  of  the  one  necessarily  preserved 
the  other. 

In  front  of  the  Imamzadah  is  the  garden,  with  some 
very  old  and  one  or  two  large  trees,  but  along  the  edge 
of  the  platform  in  front  of  Omar  Khayam's  tomb  I 
found  some  rose  bushes ;  it  was  too  late  in  the  season 
for  the  roses,  but  a  few  hips  were  still  remaining,  and 
one  or  two  of  these  I  secured,  as  well  as  the  leaves, — 
some  of  which  are  here  enclosed  for  you;  I  hope  you 
will  be  able  to  grow  them  in  England, —  they  will  have 
an  interest,  as  in  all  probability  they  are  the  particular 
kind  of  roses  Omar  Khayam  was  so  fond  of  watching 
as  he  pondered  and  composed  his  verses. 

It  may  be  worth  adding  that  there  is  also  at  Xishapur 
the  tomb  of  another  poet  who  lived  about  the  same  time 
as  Omar  Khayam, — his  name  was  Ferid  ed  din  Attar ; 


xxx  OMAR  KHAYYAM'S  GRAVE. 

according  to  Vambery,  he  was  "  a  great  mystic  and 
philosopher.  He  wrote  a  work  called  '  Mantik  et  Teyr, 
the  Logic  of  Birds.'  In  this  the  feathered  creatures 
are  made  to  contend  in  a  curious  way  on  the  causes  of 
existence,  and  the  Source  of  Truth.  '  Hudhud,'  the  All- 
Knowing  magical  bird  of  Solomon,  is  introduced,  as  the 
Teacher  of  Birds ;  and  also  Simurg,  the  Phoanix  of  the 
Orientals,  and  Symbol  of  the  Highest  Light."  In  this 
it  is  understood  that  the  Birds  represent  humanity, 
Hudhud  is  the  Prophet,  and  the  Simurg  stands  for 
Deity.  This  tomb  I  shall  not  have  time  to  visit.  An- 
other three  marches  take  us  to  Meshed,  and  then  we 
shall  be  close  to  the  Afghan  frontier.  I  am  sending 
a  sketch  of  Omar  Khayam's  tomb  to  the  Illustrated 
London  News. 

Believe  me 

Yours  very  truly, 

WILLIAM  SIMPSON. 

The  sketch  above  referred  to  appears  in  the  present  volume 
as  the  frontispiece  to  the  Ruba'iyyat. 


OMAR    KHAYYAM, 
THE  ASTRONOMER-POET  OE  PERSIA. 


OMAE    KHAYYAM, 

THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OP    PERSIA. 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  was  born  at  Naishapur  in  Kho- 
rasan  in  the  latter  half  of  our  Eleventh,  and  died 
within  the  First  Quarter  of  our  Twelfth  Century. 
The  slender  Story  of  his  Life  is  curiously  twined  about 
that  of  two  other  very  considerable  Figures  in  their 
Time  and  Country :  one  of  whom  tells  the  Story  of  all 
Three.  This  was  Nizam  ul  Mulk,  Vizyr  to  Alp  Arslan 
the  Son,  and  Malik  Shah  the  Grandson,  of  Toghrul  Beg 
the  Tartar,  who  had  wrested  Persia  from  the  feeble 
Successor  of  Mahmud  the  Great,  and  founded  that  Sel- 
jukian  Dynasty  which  finally  roused  Europe  into  the 
Crusades.  This  Nizam  ul  Mulk,  in  his  Waslyat  —  or 
Testament  —  which  he  wrote  and  left  as  a  Memorial  for 
future  Statesmen  —  relates  the  following,  as  quoted  in 
the  Calcutta  Review,  No.  59,  from  Mirkhond's  History 
of  the  Assassins : 

"  '  One  of  the  greatest  of  the  wise  men  of  Khorassan 
'  was  the  Imam  Mowaffak  of  Naishapur,  a  man  highly 
'  honoured  and  reverenced, —  may  God  rejoice  his  soul ; 
'  his  illustrious  years  exceeded  eighty-five,  and  it  was 


& 


OMAE    KHAYYAM 


i  the  universal  belief  that  every  boy  who  read  the  Koran 
'  or  studied  the  traditions  in  his  presence,  would  assur- 
'  edly  attain  to  honour  and  happiness.  For  this  cause 
'  did  my  father  send  me  from  Tiis  to  Naishapiir  with 
'  Abd-us-samad,  the  doctor  of  law,  that  I  might  employ 
'  myself  in  study  and  learning  under  the  guidance  of 
1  that  illustrious  teacher.  Towards  me  he  ever  turned 
'  an  eye  of  favour  and  kindness,  and  as  his  pupil  I  felt 
'  for  him  extreme  affection  and  devotion,  so  that  I  passed 
'  four  years  in  his  service.  When  I  first  came  there,  I 
1  found  two  other  pupils  of  mine  own  age  newly  arrived, 
'  Hakim  Omar  Khayyam,  and  the  ill-fated  Ben  Sabbah. 
'  Both  were  endowed  with  sharpness  of  wit  and  the 
'  highest  natural  powers ;  and  we  three  formed  a  close 
'  friendship  together.  When  the  Imam  rose  from  his 
'  lectures,  they  used  to  join  me,  and  we  repeated  to  each 
'  other  the  lessons  we  had  heard.  Now  Omar  was  a 
'  native  of  Naishapiir,  while  Hasan  Ben  Sabbah's  father 
'  was  one  All,  a  man  of  austere  life  and  practice,  but 

•  heretical  in  his  creed  and  doctrine.     One  day  Hasan 
'  said  to  me  and  to  Khayyam,  '  It  is  a  universal  belief 
i  that  the  pupils  of  the  Imam  Mo  waff  ak  will  attain  to 
'  fortune.     Now,  even  if  we  all  do  not  attain  thereto, 
'  without  doubt  one  of  us  will ;  what  then  shall  be  our 
'  mutual  pledge  and  bond  ? '    We  answered,  '  Be  it  what 
'  you  please.'     '  Well/  lie  said,  '  let  us  make  a  vow,  that 
'  to  whomsoever  this   fortune  falls,  he   shall  share  it 
'  equally  with   the  rest,  and   reserve  no  pre-eminence 

•  for  himself.'     '  Be  it  so,'  we  both  replied,  and  on  those 


THE    ASTRONOMEE-POET    OF    PERSIA.  3 

• 

4  terms  we  mutually  pledged  our  words.  Years  rolled 
'  on,  and  I  went  from  Khorassan  to  Transoxiana,  and 
1  wandered  to  Grhazni  and  Cabul ;  and  when  I  returned, 
i  I  was  invested  with  office,  and  rose  to  be  adminis- 
i  trator  of  affairs  during  the  Sultanate  of  Sultan  Alp 
( Arslan.' 

"  He  goes  on  to  state,  that  years  passed  by,  and  both 
his  old  school-friends  found  him  out,  and  came  and 
claimed  a  share  in  his  good  fortune,  according  to  the 
school-day  vow.  The  Vizier  was  generous  and  kept 
his  word.  Hasan  demanded  a  place  in  the  government, 
which  the  Sultan  granted  at  the  Vizier's  request ;  but 
discontented  with  a  gradual  rise,  he  plunged  into  the 
maze  of  intrigue  of  an  oriental  court,  and  failing  in  a 
base  attempt  to  supplant  his  benefactor,  he  was  dis- 
graced and  fell.  After  many  mishaps  and  wanderings, 
Hasan  became  the  head  of  the  Persian  sect  of  the 
IsmaiUans, —  a  party  of  fanatics  who  had  long  mur- 
mured in  obscurity,  but  rose  to  an  evil  eminence  under 
the  guidance  of  his  strong  and  evil  will.  In  A.  D.  1090, 
he  seized  the  castle  of  Alamut,  in  the  province  of  Rud- 
bar,  which  lies  in  the  mountainous  tract  south  of  the 
Caspian  Sea;  and  it  was  from  this  mountain  home  he 
obtained  that  evil  celebrity  among  the  Crusaders  as  the 
OLD  MAN  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS,  and  spread  terror 
through  the  Mohammedan  world ;  and  it  is  yet  disputed 
whether  the  word  Assassin,  which  they  have  left  in  the 
language  of  modern  Europe  as  their  dark  memorial, 
is  derived  from  the  hashish,  or  opiate  of  hemp-leaves 


4  OMAR    KHAYYAM, 

(the  Indian  bhang),  with  which  they  maddened  them- 
selves to  the  sullen  pitch  of  oriental  desperation,  or 
from  the  name  of  the  founder  of  the  dynasty,  whom  we 
have  seen  in  his  quiet  collegiate  days  at  Naishapur. 
One  of  the  countless  victims  of  the  Assassin's  dagger 
was  Nizam-ul-Mulk  himself,  the  old  school-boy  friend.1 

"  Omar  Khayyam  also  came  to  the  Vizier  to  claim 
the  share ;  but  not  to  ask  for  title  or  office.  '  The 
i  greatest  boon  you  can  confer  on  me,'  he  said,  l  is  to 
'  let  me  live  in  a  corner  under  the  shadow  of  your  for- 
'  tune,  to  spread  wide  the  advantages  of  Science,  and 
'pray  for  your  long  life  and  prosperity.'  The  Vizier 
tells  us,  that,  when  he  found  Omar  was  really  sincere 
in  his  refusal,  he  pressed  him  no  further,  but  granted 
him  a  yearly  pension  of  1200  mithMls  of  gold,  from 
the  treasury  of  Naishapur. 

"  At  Naishapur  thus  lived  and  died  Omar  Khayyam, 
'  busied,'  adds  the  Vizier,  '  in  winning  knowledge  of 
'  every  kind,  and  especially  in  Astronomy,  wherein  he 
'  attained  to  a  very  high  pre-eminence.  Under  the 
'  Sultanate  of  Malik  Shah,  he  came  to  Merv,  and  ob- 
'  tained  great  praise  for  his  proficiency  in  science,  and 
'  the  Sultan  showered  favours  upon  him.' 

1  Some  of  Omar's  Rubaiyat  warns  us  of  the  danger  of  Greatness, 
the  instability  of  Fortune,  and  while  advocating  Charity  to  all 
Men,  recommending  us  to  be  too  intimate  with  none.  Attar 
makes  Nizam-ul-Mulk  use  the  very  words  of  his  friend  Omar 
[Rub.  xxviii.],  "When  Nizam-ul-Mulk  was  in  the  Agony  (of 
Death;  he  said,  '  Oh  God!  I  am  passing  away  in  the  hand  of  the 
Wind.' " 


THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  5 

"  When  Malik  Shah  determined  to  reform  the  calen- 
dar, Omar  was  one  of  the  eight  learned  men  employed 
to  do  it ;  the  result  was  the  Jdluli  era  (so  called  from 
Jalal-u-din,  one  of  the  king's  names)  — '  a  computation 
of  time,'  says  Gibbon,  '  which  surpasses  the  Julian,  and 
approaches  the  accuracy  of  the  Gregorian  style.'  He 
is  also  the  author  of  some  astronomical  tables,  entitled 
Ziji-Malikshahi,"  and  the  French  have  lately  repub- 
lished  and  translated  an  Arabic  Treatise  of  his  on 
Algebra. 

"  His  Takhallus  or  poefocal  name  (Khayyam)  signifies 
a  Tent-maker,  and  he  is  said  to  have  at  one  time  exer- 
cised that  trade,  perhaps  before  Nizam-ul-Mulk's  gen- 
erosity raised  him  to  independence.  Many  Persian 
poets  similarly  derived  their  names  from  their  occupa- 
tions ;  thus  we  have  Attar,  '  a  druggist/  Assar,  '  an  oil 
presser/  &C.1  Omar  himself  alludes  to  his  name  in  the 
following  whimsical  lines  : — 

'  Khayyam,  who  stitched  the  tents  of  science, 
Has  fallen  in  grief's  furnace  and  been  suddenly  burned; 
The  shears  of  Fate  have  cut  the  tent  ropes  of  his  life, 
And  the  broker  of  Hope  has  sold  him  for  nothing ! ' 

"  We  have  only  one  more  anecdote  to  give  of  khis 
Life,  and  that  relates  to  the  close ;  it  is  told  in  the 
anonymous  preface  which  is  sometimes  prefixed  to 
his  poems;  it  has  been  printed  in  the  Persian  in  the 

1  Though  all  these,  like  our  Smiths,  Archers,  Millers,  Fletchers, 
&c.,  may  simply  retain  the  Surname  of  an  hereditary  calling. 


6  OMAR    KHAYYAM, 

appendix  to  Hyde's  Veterum  Persarum  Religio,  p.  529 ; 
and  D'Herbelot  alludes  to  it  in  his  Bibliotheque,  under 
KTiiam :  — ' 

"  '  It  is  written  in  the  chronicles  of  the  ancients 
'  that  this  King  of  the  Wise,  Omar  Khayyam,  died  at 
'  Naishapur  in  the  year  of  the  Hegira,  517  (A.  D.  1123)  ; 
'in  science  he  was  unrivalled, —  the  very  paragon  of 
1  his  age.  Khwajah  Nizami  of  Samarcand,  who  was 
'  one  of  his  pupils,  relates  the  following  story :  '  I  often 
'  used  to  hold  conversations  with  my  teacher,  Omar 
'  Khayyam,  in  a  garden ;  and  one  day  he  said  to  me, 
' '  My  tomb  shall  be  in  a  spot  where  the  north  wind 
'  may  scatter  roses  over  it.'  I  wondered  at  the  words 
1  he  spake,  but  I  knew  that  his  were  no  idle  words.2 
'  Years  after,  when  I  chanced  to  revisit  Naishapur, 
'  I  went  to  his  final  resting-place,  and  lo !  it  was 
'  just  outside  a  garden,  and  trees  laden  with  fruit 
'  stretched  their  boughs  over  the  garden  wall,  and 
1  dropped  their  flowers  upon  his  tomb,  so  as  the  stone 
'  was  hidden  under  them.'  " 


1  "  Philosophe  Musulmaii  qui  a  veeu  en  Odetir  de  Saintete  vers 
la  Fin  du  premier  et  le  Commencement  du  second  Siecle,"  no  part 
of  which,  except  the  "Philosophe,"  can  apply  to  our  Khayyam. 

-  The  Eashness  of  the  Words,  according  to  D'Herbelot,  con- 
sisted in  being  so  opposed  to  those  in  the  Koran:  "No  Man 
knows  where  he  shall  die." — This  Story  of  Omar  reminds  me  of 
another  so  naturally  —  and,  when  one  remembers  how  wide  of  his 
humble  mark  the  noble  sailor  aimed  —  so  pathetically  told  by 
Captain  Cook  —  not  by  Doctor  Hawkesworth — in  his  Second 
Voyage.  When  leaving  Ulietea,  "Oreo's  last  request  was  for  me 
to  return.  When  lie  saw  he  could  not  obtain  that  promise,  he 


THE    ASTBONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  7 

Thus  far — without  fear  of  Trespass — from  the  Cal- 
cutta Review.  The  writer  of  it,  on  reading  in  India 
this  story  of  Omar's  Grave,  was  reminded,  he  says, 
of  Cicero's  Account  of  finding  Archimedes'  Tomb  at 
Syracuse,  buried  in  grass  and  weeds.  I  think  Thor- 
waldsen  desired  to  have  roses  grow  over  him ;  a  wish 
religiously  fulfilled  for  him  to  the  present  day,  I  be- 
lieve. However,  to  return  to  Omar. 

Though  the  Sultan  "  shower'd  Favours  upon  him," 
Omar's  Epicurean  Audacity  of  Thought  and  Speech 
caused  him  to  be  regarded  askance  in  his  own  Time 
and  Country.  He  is  said  to  have  been  especially  hated 
and  dreaded  by  the  Sufis,  whose  Practice  he  ridiculed, 
and  whose  Faith  amounts  to  little  more  than  his  own 
when  stript  of  the  Mysticism  and  formal  recognition  of 
Islamism  under  which  Omar  would  not  hide.  Their 
Poets,  including  Hafiz,  who  are  (with  the  exception  of 
Firdausi)  the  most  considerable  in  Persia,  borrowed 
largely,  indeed,  of  Omar's  material,  but  turning  it  to  a 
mystical  Use  more  convenient  to  Themselves  and  the 
People  they  addressed;  a  People  quite  as  quick  of 
Doubt  as  of  Belief;  as  keen  of  Bodily  Sense  as  of 

asked  the  name  of  my  Martti  —  Burying-place.  As  strange  a  ques- 
tion as  this  was,  I  hesitated  not  a  moment  to  tell  him  '  Stepney,' 
the  parish  in  which  I  live  when  in  London.  I  was  made  to  repeat 
it  several  times  over  till  they  could  pronounce  it ;  and  then  '  Step- 
ney Marai  no  Toote '  was  echoed  through  a  hundred  mouths  at 
once.  I  afterwards  found  the  same  question  had  been  put  to  Mr. 
Forster  by  a  man  on  shore ;  but  he  gave  a  different,  and  indeed 
more  proper  answer,  by  saying,  'No  man  who  used  the  sea  could 
say  where  he  should  be  buried.' " 


Intellectual;  and  delighting  in  a  cloudy  composition 
of  both,  in  which  they  could  float  luxuriously  between 
Heaven  and  Earth,  and  this  "World  and  the  Next,  on 
the  wings  of  a  poetical  expression,  that  might  serve 
indifferently  for  either.  Omar  was  too  honest  of  Heart 
as  well  as  of  Head  for  this.  Having  failed  (however 
mistakenly)  of  finding  any  Providence  but  Destiny, 
and  any  Wofld  but  This,  he  set  about  making  the  most 
of  it;  preferring  rather  to  soothe  the  Soul  through  the 
Senses  into  Acquiescence  with  Things  as  he  saw  them, 
than  to  perplex  it  with  vain  disquietude  after  what 
they  might  be.  It  has  been  seen,  however,  that  his 
Worldly  Ambition  was  not  exorbitant;  and  he  very 
likely  takes  a  humorous  or  perverse  pleasure  in  exalt- 
ing the  gratification  of  Sense  above  that  of  the  Intellect, 
in  which  he  must  have  taken  great  delight,  although  it 
failed  to  answer  the  Questions  in  which  he,  in  common 
with  all  men,  was  most  vitally  interested. 

For  whatever  Reason,  however,  Omar,  as  before 
said,  has  never  been  popular  in  his  own  Country,  and 
therefore  has  been  but  scantily  transmitted  abroad. 
The  MSS.  of  his  Poems,  mutilated  beyond  the  average 
Casualties  of  Oriental  Transcription,  are  so  rare  in  the 
East  as  scarce  to  have  reacht  Westward  at  all,  in  spite 
of  all  the  acquisitions  of  Arms  and  Science.  There  is 
no  copy  at  the  India  House,  none  at  the  Bibliotheque 
Nationale  of  Paris.  We  know  but  of  one  in  England : 
No.  140  of  the  Ouseley  MSS.  at  the  Bodleian,  written 
at  Shiraz,  A.  n.  1460.  This  contains  but  1">8  Rubaiyat. 


N 


\5 

THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  V) 

One  in  the  Asiatic  Society's  Library  at  Calcutta  (of 
which  we  have  a  Copy),  contains  (and  yet  incomplete) 
516,  though  swelled  to  that  by  all  kinds  of  Repetition 
and  Corruption.  So  Von  Hammer  speaks  of  his  Copy 
as  containing  about  200,  while  Dr.  Sprenger  catalogues 
the  Lucknow  MS.  at  double  that  number.1  The  Scribes, 
too,  of  the  Oxford  and  Calcutta  MSS.  seem  to  do  their 
Work  under  a  sort  of  Protest ;  each  beginning  with  a 
Tetrastich  (whether  genuine  or  not),  taken  out  of  its 
alphabetical  order ;  the  Oxford  with  one  of  Apology ; 
the  Calcutta  with  one  of  Expostulation,  supposed  (says 
a  Notice  prefixed  to  the  MS.)  to  have  arisen  from  a 
Dream,  in  which  Omar's  mother  asked  about  his  future 
fate.  It  may  be  rendered  thus  :  — 

"Oh  Thou  who  burn'st  in  Heart  for  those  who  burn 
"  In  Hell,  whose  fires  thyself  shall  feed  in  turn  ; 
' '  How  long  be  crying,  '  Mercy  on  them,  God  ! ' 
"Why,  who  art  Thou  to  teach,  and  He  to  learn  ?" 

The  Bodleian  Quatrain  pleads  Pantheism  by  way  of 
Justification. 

"  If  I  myself  upon  a  looser  Creed 
"Have  loosely  strung  the  Jewel  of  Good  deed, 
"  Let  this  one  thing  for  my  Atonement  plead  : 
"  That  One  for  Two  I  never  did  mis-read." 

The  Reviewer,  to  whom  I  owe  the  Particulars  of 
Omar's  Life,  concludes  his  Review  by  comparing  him 

1  "  Since  this  Paper  was  written  "  (adds  the  Reviewer  in  a  note), 
"  we  have  met  with  a  Copy  of  a  very  rare  Edition,  printed  at  Cal- 
cutta in  1836.  This  contains  438  Tetrastichs,  with  an  Appendix 
containing  54  others  not  found  in  some  MSS." 


10  OMAR    KHAYYAM, 

with  Lucretius,  both  as  to  natural  Temper  and  Genius, 
and  as  acted  upon  by  the  Circumstances  in  which  he 
lived.  Both  indeed  were  men  of  subtle,  strong,  and 
cultivated  Intellect,  fine  Imagination,  and  Hearts  pas- 
sionate for  Truth  and  Justice ;  who  justly  revolted 
from  their  Country's  false  Religion,  and  false,  or 
foolish,  Devotion  to  it ;  but  who  fell  short  of  replacing 
what  they  subverted  by  such  better  Hope  as  others, 
with  no  better  Revelation  to  guide  them,  had  yet  made 
a  Law  to  themselves.  Lucretius,  indeed,  with  such 
material  as  Epicurus  furnished,  satisfied  himself  with 
the  theory  of  a  vast  machine  fortuitously  constructed, 
and  acting  by  a  Law  that  implied  no  Legislator  •  and 
so  composing  himself  into  a  Stoical  rather  than  Epicu- 
rean severity  of  Attitude,  sat  down  to  contemplate  the 
mechanical  Drama  of  the  Universe  which  he  was  part 
Actor  in ;  himself  and  all  about  him  (as  in  his  own 
sublime  description  of  the  Roman  Theatre)  discoloured 
with  the  lurid  reflex  of  the  Curtain  suspended  between 
the  Spectator  and  the  Sun.  Omar,  more  desperate, 
or  more  careless  of  any  so  complicated  System  as 
resulted  in  nothing  but  hopeless  Necessity,  flung  his 
own  Genius  and  Learning  with  a  bitter  or  humorous 
jest  into  the  general  Ruin  which  their  insufficient 
glimpses  only  served  to  reveal ;  and,  pretending  sen- 
sual pleasure  as  the  serious  purpose  of  Life,  only 
diverted  himself  with  speculative  problems  of  Deity, 
Destiny,  Matter  and  Spirit,  Good  and  Evil,  and  other 
such  questions,  easier  to  start  than  to  run  down, 


THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  11 

and  the  pursuit  of  which  becomes  a  very  weary  sport 
at  last ! 

With  regard  to  the  present  Translation.  The  original 
Rubaiyat  (as,  missing  an  Arabic  Guttural,  these  Tetra- 
stichs  are  more  musically  called)  are  independent  Stan- 
zas, consisting  each  of  four  Lines  of  equal,  though 
varied,  Prosody;  sometimes  all  rhyming,  but  oftener 
(as  here  imitated)  the  third  line  a  blank.  Sometimes 
as  in  the  Greek  Alcaic,  where  the  penultimate  line 
seems  to  lift  and  suspend  the  Wave  that  falls  over  in 
the  last.  As  usual  with  such  kind  of  Oriental  Verse, 
the  Rubaiyat  follow  one  another  according  to  Alpha- 
betic Rhyme  —  a  strange  succession  of  Grave  and  Gay. 
Those  here  selected  are  strung  into  something  of  an 
Eclogue,  with  perhaps  a  less  than  equal  proportion  of 
the  "  Drink  and  make-merry,"  which  (genuine  or  not) 
recurs  over-frequently  in  the  Original.  Either  way, 
the  Result  is  sad  enough :  saddest  perhaps  when  most 
ostentatiously  merry :  more  apt  to  move  Sorrow  than 
Anger  toward  the  old  Teiitmaker,  who,  after  vainly 
endeavouring  to  unshackle  his  Steps  from  Destiny,  and 
to  catch  some  authentic  Glimpse  of  TO-MORROW,  fell 
back  upon  TO-DAY  (which  has  outlasted  so  many  To- 
morrows !)  as  the  only  Ground  he  got  to  stand  upon, 
however  momentarily  slipping  from  under  his  Feet. 


I   — 


[From  the  Third  Edition.] 

While  the  second  Edition  of  this  version  of  Omar 
was  preparing,  Monsieur  Nicolas,  French  Consul  at 
Resht,  published  a  very  careful  and  very  good  Edi- 
tion of  the  Text,  from  a  lithograph  copy  at  Teheran, 
comprising  464  Rubaiyat,  with  translation  and  notes 
of  his  own. 

Mons.  Nicolas,  whose  Edition  has  reminded  me  of 
several  things,  and  instructed  me  in  others,  does  not 
consider  Omar  to  be  the  material  Epicurean  that  I  have 
literally  taken  him  for,  but  a  Mystic,  shadowing  the 
Deity  under  the  figure  of  Wine,  Wine-bearer,  &c.,  as 
Hafiz  is  supposed  to  do  ;  in  short,  a  Sufi  Poet  like  Hafiz 
and  the  rest. 

I  cannot  see  reason  to  alter  my  opinon,  formed  as 
it  was  more  than  a  dozen  years  ago  when  Omar  was 
first  shown  me  by  one  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  all  I 
know  of  Oriental,  and  very  much  of  other,  literature. 
He  admired  Omar's  Genius  so  much,  that  he  would 
gladly  have  adopted  any  such  Interpretation  of  his 
meaning  as  Mons.  Nicolas'  if  he  could.1  That  he  could 
not,  appears  by  his  Paper  in  the  Calcutta  Review 
already  so  largely  quoted;  in  which  he  argues  from 
the  Poems,  themselves,  as  well  as  from  what  records 
remain  of  the  Poet's  Life. 

1  Perhaps  would  have  edited  the  Poems  himself  some  years  ago. 
He  may  now  as  little  approve  of  my  Version  on  one  side,  as  of 
Mons.  Nicolas'  Theory  on  the  other. 


THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  13 

And  if  more  were  needed  to  disprove  Mons.  Nicolas' 
Theory,  there  is  the  Biographical  Notice  which  he 
himself  has  drawn  up  in  direct  contradiction  to  the 
Interpretation  of  the  Poems  given  in  his  Notes.  (See 
pp.  13-14  of  his  Preface.)  Indeed  I  hardly  knew  poor 
Omar  was  so  far  gone  till  his  Apologist  informed  me. 
For  here  we  see  that,  whatever  were  the  Wine  that 
Hafiz  drank  and  sang,  the  veritable  Juice  of  the  Grape 
it  was  which  Omar  used,  not  only  when  carousing  with 
his. friends,  but  (says  Mous.  Nicolas)  in  order  to  excite 
himself  to  that  pitch  of  Devotion  which  others  reached 
by  cries  and  "hurlemens."  And  yet,  whenever  Wine, 
Wine-bearer,  &c.,  occur  in  the  Text  —  which  is  often 
enough  —  Mons.  Nicolas  carefully  annotates  "  Dieu," 
"  La  Divinite,"  &c. :  so  carefully  indeed  that  one  is 
tempted  to  think  that  he  was  indoctrinated  by  the  Sufi 
with  whom  he  read  the  Poems.  (Note  to  Rub.  ii.  p.  8.) 
A  Persian  would  naturally  wish  to  vindicate  a  dis- 
tinguished Countryman  ;  and  a  Siifi  to  enrol  him  in 
his  own  sect,  which  already  comprises  all  the  chief 
Poets  of  Persia. 

What  historical  Authority  has  Mons.  Nicolas  to  show 
that  Omar  gave  himself  up  "  avec  passion  a  Fetude  de 
la  philosophie  des  Soufis"?  (Preface,  p.  xiii.)  The 
Doctrines  of  Pantheism,  Materialism,  Necessity,  &c., 
were  not  peculiar  to  the  Sufi ;  nor  to  Lucretius  before 
them ;  nor  to  Epicurus  before  him  ;  probably  the  very 
original  Irreligion  of  Thinking  men  from  the  first; 
and  very  likely  to  be  the  spontaneous  growth  of  a 


14 


OMAK     KHAYYAM, 


Philosopher  living  in  an  Age  of  social  and  political 
barbarism,  under  shadow  of  one  of  the  Two  and 
Seventy  Religions  supposed  to  divide  the  world.  Von 
Hammer  (according  to  Sprenger's  Oriental  Catalogue) 
speaks  of  Omar  as  "  a  Free-thinker,  and  a  great  oppo- 
nent of  Sujism ;  "  perhaps  because,  while  holding  much 
of  their  Doctrine,  he  would  not  pretend  to  any  incon- 
sistent severity  of  morals.  Sir  W.  Ouseley  has  written 
a  note  to  something  of  the  same  effect  on  the  fly-leaf 
of  the  Bodleian  MS.  And  in  two  Rubaiyat  of  Mons. 
Nicolas'  own  Edition  Siif  and  Sufi  are  both  dispara- 
gingly named. 

No  doubt  many  of  these  Quatrains  seem  unaccount- 
able unless  mystically  interpreted  ;  but  many  more  as 
unaccountable  unless  literally.  Were  the  Wine  spiritual, 
for  instance,  how  wash  the  Body  with  it  when  dead  f 
Why  make  cups  of  the  dead  clay  to  be  filled  with  — 
"La  Divinite"  by  some  succeeding  Mystic?  Mons. 
Nicolas  himself  is  puzzled  by  some  "  bizarres "  and 
u  trop  Orientales  "  allusions  and  images  —  "d'unesen- 
sualite  quelquefois  revoltante"  indeed  —  which  "les 
convenances  "  do  not  permit  him  to  translate  ;  but  still 
which  the  reader  cannot  but  refer  to  "La  DiviniteV'1 


1  A  Note  to  Quatrain  234  admits  that,  however  clear  the  mystical 
meaning  of  such  Images  must  be  to  Europeans,  they  are  not  quoted 
without  "rougissant"  even  by  laymen  in  Persia  —  "Quant  aiix 
termes  de  teiidresse  qui  commencent  ce  quatrain,  comme  taut 
d'autres  dans  ce  recueil,  nos  lecteurs,  habitues  maintenaiit  a 
I'etrangete  des  expressions  si  souvent  employes  par  Klieyam  pour 
rendre  ses  pensees  sur  1'amour  divin,  et  a  la  singularite  des  images 


THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  15 

No  doubt  also  many  of  the  Quatrains  in  the  Teheran, 
as  in  the  Calcutta,  Copies,  are  spurious ;  such  EuMiydt 
being  the  common  form  of  Epigram  in  Persia.  But 
this,  at  best,  tells  as  much  one  way  as  another ;  nay, 
the  Sufi,  who  may  be  considered  the  Scholar  and  Man 
of  Letters  in  Persia,  would  be  far  more  likely  than  the 
careless  Epicure  to  interpolate  what  favours  his  own 
view  of  the  Poet.  I  observe  that  very  few  of  the  more 
mystical  Quatrains  are  in  the  Bodleian  MS.,  which  must 
be  one  of  the  oldest,  as  dated  at  Shiraz,  A.  H.  865,  A.  D. 
1460.  And  this,  I  think,  especially  distinguishes  Omar 
(I  cannot  help  calling  him  by  his  —  no,  not  Christian  — 
familiar  name)  from  all  other  Persian  Poets:  That, 
whereas  with  them  the  Poet  is  lost  in  his  Song,  the 
Man  in  ADegory  and  Abstraction ;  we  seem  to  have 
the  Man  —  the  Bonhomme  —  Omar  himself,  with  all  his 
Humours  and  Passions,  as  frankly  before  us  as  if  we 
were  really  at  Table  with  him,  after  the  Wine  had  gone 
round. 

I  must  say  that  I,  for  one,  never  wholly  believed  in 
the  Mysticism  of  Hafiz.  It  does  not  appear  there  was 
any  danger  in  holding  and  singing  Sufi  Pantheism,  so 
long  as  the  Poet  made  his  Salaam  to  Mohammed  at  the 
beginning  and  end  of  his  Song.  Under  such  conditions 

trop  orientales,  d'une  sensualite  quelqiiefois  revoltante,  n'auront 
pas  de  peine  a  se  persuader  qiril  s'agit  de  la  Divinite,  bien  que 
eette  conviction  soit  vivement  discutee  par  les  moullahs  musul- 
mans,  et  meme  par  beaucoup  de  laiqties,  qni  rougissent  veritable- 
ment  d'une  pareille  licence  de  leur  compatriote  a  1'egard  des 
choses  spirituelles." 


10  OMAR     KHAYYAM, 

Jelaluddin,  Jami,  Attar,  and  others  sang ;  using  Wine 
and  Beauty  indeed  as  Images  to  illustrate,  not  as  a 
Mask  to  hide,  the  Divinity  they  were  celebrating.  Per- 
haps some  Allegory  less  liable  to  mistake  or  abuse  had 
been  better  among  so  inflammable  a  People :  much 
more  so  when,  as  some  think  with  Hafiz  and  Omar,  the 
abstract  is  not  only  likened  to,  but  identified  with,  the 
sensual  Image ;  hazardous,  if  not  to  the  Devotee  him- 
self, yet  to  his  weaker  Brethren ;  and  worse  for  the 
Profane  in  proportion  as  the  Devotion  of  the  Initiated 
grew  warmer.  And  all  for  what?  To  be  tantalized 
with  Images  of  sensual  enjoyment  which  must  be 
renounced  if  one  would  approximate  a  God,  who 
according  to  the  Doctrine,  is  Sensual  Matter  as  well  as 
Spirit,  and  into  whose  Universe  one  expects  uncon- 
sciously to  merge  after  Death,  without  hope  of  any 
posthumous  Beatitude  in  another  world  to  compensate 
for  all  one's  self-denial  in  this.  Lucretius'  blind  Divinity 
certainly  merited,  and  probably  got,  as  much  self-sac- 
rifice as  this  of  the  Sufi;  and  the  burden  of.  Omar's 
Song  —  if  not  "Let  us  eat  "  —  is  assuredly — "  Let  us 
drink,  for  To-morrow  we  die ! "  And  if  Hafiz  meant 
quite  otherwise  by  a  similar  language,  he  surely  mis- 
calculated when  he  devoted  his  Life  and  Genius  to  so 
equivocal  a  Psalmody  as,  from  his  Day  to  this,  has  been 
said  and  sung  by  any  rather  than  spiritual  Worshippers. 
However,  as  there  is  some  traditional  presumption, 
and  certainly  the  opinion  of  some  learned  men,  in 
favour  of  Omar's  being  a  Sufi  —  and  even  something  of 


THE    ASTRONOMER-POET    OF    PERSIA.  17 

a  Saint  —  those  who  please  may  so  interpret  his  Wine 
and  Cnp-bearer.  On  the  other  hand,  as  there  is  far 
more  historical  certainty  of  his  being  a  Philosopher,  of 
scientific  Insight  and  Ability  far  beyond  that  of  the 
Age  and  Country  he  lived  in  ;  of  such  moderate  worldly 
Ambition  as  becomes  a  Philosopher,  and  such  moderate 
wants  as  rarely  satisfy  a  Debauchee  ;  other  readers  may 
be  content  to  believe  with  me  that,  while  the  Wine 
Omar  celebrates  is  simply  the  Juice  of  the  Grape,  he 
bragg'd  more  than  he  drank  of  it,  in  very  defiance 
perhaps  of  that  Spiritual  Wine  which  left  its  Votaries 
sunk  in  Hypocrisy  or  Disgust. 


TOMB    OF    OMAR     KHAYYAM,   THE    PERSIAN    POET,   AT    NAISHAPUR. 


RUBAIYAT 


OF 


OMAR  KHAYYAM  OF  NA1SHAPUR. 


20  RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


AVAKE  !  for  Morning  in  the  Bowl  of  Night 
Has  flung  the  Stone  that  puts  the  Stars  to  Flight: 
And  Lo  !  the  Hunter  of  the  East  has  caught 
The  Sultan's  Turret  in  a  Noose  of  Light. 

II 

Dreaming,  when  Dawn's  Left  Hand  was  in  the  Sky, 
I  heard  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cry, 

"Awake,  my  Little  ones,  and  fill  the  Cup 
"  Before  Life's  Liquor  in  its  Cup  be  dry." 

Ill 

And,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted  —  "  Open  then  the  Door  ! 

"  You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay, 
"And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more." 


IV 

Now,  the  New  Year  reviving  old  Desires, 
The  thoughtful  Soul  to  Solitude  retires, 

Where  the  WHITE  HAND  OF  MOSES  on  the  Bough 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  the  Ground  suspires. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR    KHAYYAM.         21 


WAKE  !  For  the  S^m  who  scattered  into  fligJit 
The  Stars  before  him  from  the  Field  of  Night, 

Drives  Night  along  with  them  from  Heavn,  and  strikes 
The  Sultan's  Turret  with  a  Shaft  of  Light. 

II 

Before  the  phantom  of  False  morning  died, 
Methought  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cried, 
"  When  all  the  Temple  is  prepared  within, 
"  Why  nods  the  drowsy  Worshipper  outside  ?  " 


A  nd,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  sJiouted  —  "Open  then  the  Door  ! 

"  You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay, 
"And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more." 

IV 

Now  the  New  Year  reviving  old  Desires, 
The  thoughtful  Soul  to  Solitude  retires, 

Where  the  WHITE  HAND  OF  MOSES  on  the  ttoiigh 
Puts  out,  and  Jesus  from  tlic  ground  suspires. 


RUBAIYAT    OF    OMAR    KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


Iram  indeed  is  gone  with  all  its  Rose, 

And  Jamshyd's  Sev'n-ring'd  Cup  where  no  one  knows ; 

But  still  the  Vine  her  ancient  Ruby  yields, 
And  still  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows. 

VI 

And  David's  Lips  are  lock't;  but  in  divine 
High  piping  Pehlevi,  with  "Wine!  Wine!  Wine! 

"Red  Wine  !"  —  the  Nightingale  cries  to  the  Rose 
That  yellow  Cheek  of  her's  to'incarnadine. 

VII 

Come,  fill  the  Cup,  and  in  the  Fire  of  Spring 
The  Winter  Garment  of  Repentance  fling: 

The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  fly  —  and  Lo  !  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OP   OMAR    KHAYYAM.         23 


Iram  indeed  is  gone  with  all  his  Rose, 

And  Jamshyd 's  Sev'n-ringd  Cup  where  no  one  knows, 

But  still  a  Ruby  kindles  in  the  Vine, 
A  nd  many  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows. 

VI 

And  David's  lips  are  lockt ;  but  in  divine 
High-piping  Pehlevi,  with  "Wine!  Wine!  Wine! 
"Red  Wine  !  " — the  Nightingale  cries  to  the  Rose 
That  sallow  cheek  of  hers  to   incarnadine. 

VII 

Come,  fill  the  Cup,  and  in  the  fire  of  Spring 
Your  Winter- garment  of  Repentance  fling  : 

The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  flutter  —  and  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 

VIII 

Whether  at  Naishdpiir  or  Babylon, 
Whether  tJie  Cup  with  sweet  or  bitter  run, 

The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop, 
The  Leaves  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  one. 


26          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Editiou. 

XII 

"  How  sweet  is  mortal  Sovranty  !  " — think  some  : 
Others — "  How  blest  the  Paradise  to  come  !" 

Ah,  take  the  Cash  in  hand  and  waive  the  Rest ; 
Oh,  the  brave  Music  of  a  distant  Drum  ! 

XIII 

Look  to  the  Rose  that  blows  about  us  —  "  Lo, 
"  Laughing,"  she  says,  "  into  the  World  I  blow  : 

"At  once  the  silken  Tassel  of  my  Purse 
"Tear,  and  its  Treasure  on  the  Garden  throw." 

XIV 

The  Worldly  Hope  men  set  their  Hearts  upon 
Turns  Ashes  —  or  it  prospers;  and  anon, 

Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert's  dusty  Face 
Lighting  a  little  Hour  or  two  —  is  gone. 

XV 

And  those  who  husbanded  the  Golden  Grain, 
And  those  who  flung  it  to  the  Winds  like  Rain, 

Alike  to  no  such  aureate  Earth  are  turn'd 
As,  buried  once,  Men  want  dug  up  again. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT    OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM. 
XIII 

Some  for  the  Glories  of  this  World ;  and  some 
Sigh  for  the  Prophet's  Paradise  to  come; 

Ah,  take  the  Cash,  and  let  the  Credit  go, 
Nor  heed  the  rumble  of  a  distant  Drum  ! 

XIV 

Look  to  the  blowing  Rose  about  us  —  "Lo, 

"  Laughing,"  she  says,  "  into  the  world  I  blow, 

"At  once  the  silken  tassel  of  my  Purse 
"  Tear,  and  its  Treasure  on  the  Garden  throw." 

XV 

And  those  who  husbanded  the  Golden  grain, 
And  those  who  filing  it  to  the  winds  like  Rain, 

Alike  to  no  such  aureate  Earth  are  turrid 
As,  buried  once,  Men  want  dug  up  again. 

XVI 

The  Worldly  Hope  men  set  their  Hearts  upon 
Turns  Ashes  —  or  it  prospers  ;  and  anon, 

Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert's  dusty  Face, 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two  —  was  gone. 


27 


24  RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM.      First  Editioii. 

VIII 

And  look — a  thousand  Blossoms  with  the  Day 
Woke  —  and  a  thousand  scatter'd  into  Clay: 

And  this  first  Summer  Month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikobad  away. 

IX 

But  come  with  old  Khayyam,  and  leave  the  Lot 
Of  Kaikobad  and  Kaikhosru  forgot : 

Let  Rustum  lay  about  him  as  he  will, 
Or  Hatim  Tai  cry  Supper — heed  them  not. 

x 

With  me  along  some  Strip  of  Herbage  strown 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown, 

Where  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  scarce  is  known, 
And  pity  Sultan  Mahmud  on  his  Throne. 

XI 

Here  with  a  Loaf  of  Bread  beneath  the  Bough, 
A  Flask  of  Wine,  a  Book  of  Verse  —  and  Thou 

Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness  — 
And  Wilderness  is  Paradise  enow. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OP   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         25 
IX 

Each  Morn  a  thousand  Roses  brings,  you  say  ; 
Yes,  but  where  leaves  the  Rose  of  Yesterday  ? 

And  this  first  Summer  month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikobdd  away. 

X 

Well,  let  it  take  them  !    What  have  we  to  do 
With  Kaikobdd  the  Great,  or  Kaikhosru  ? 

Let  Zdl  and  Rustum  bluster  as  they  will, 
Or  Hdtim  call  to  Supper  —  heed  not  you. 

XI 

With  me  along  the  strip  of  Herbage  strewn 
That  just  divides  the  desert  from  the  sown, 

Wliere  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  is  forgot  — 
And  Peace  to  MaJimud  on  his  golden  Throne  ! 


XII 

A  Book  of  Verses  underneath  the  Bough, 

A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread — and  Thou 

Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness  — 
Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow  ! 


28  RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XVI 

Think,  in  this  batter'd  Caravanserai 

Whose  Doorways  are  alternate  Night  and  Day, 

How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  Hour  or  two,  and  went  his  way. 

XVII 

They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 
The  Courts  where  Jamshy'd  gloried  and  drank  deep 
And  Bahram,  that  great  Hunter — the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  o'er  his  Head,  and  he  lies  fast  asleep. 

XVI II 

I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled  ; 

That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  its  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head. 

XIX 

And  this  delightful  Herb  whose  tender  Green 
Fledges  the  River's  Lip  on  which  we  lean  — 

Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly  !   for  who  knows 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen  ! 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   UP   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         29 
XVII 

Think,  in  this  batter  d  Caravanserai 
Whose  Portals  are  alternate  Nigtit  and  Day, 

How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  destind  Hour,  and  went  his  way. 

XVIII 

They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 
The  Courts  ivherc  Jamshyd  gloried  and  drank  deep  : 
And  Bahrain,  that  great  Hunter — the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  oer  his  Head,  but  cannot  break  his  Sleep. 


I  sometimes  tliink  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose  as  where  some  buried  Ccesar  bled  ; 

That  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
Dropt  in  her  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head. 

XX 

And  this  reviving  Herb  whose  tender  Green 
Fledges  the  River -Lip  on  which  we  lean  — 
Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly  !  for  who  kuoivs 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen  ! 


30  RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR    KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XX 

Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  Cup  that  clears 
TO-DAY  of  past  Regrets  and  future  Fears  — 

To-morrow? — Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday's  Sev'n  Thousand  Years. 

XXI 

Lo  !  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  best 
That  Time  and  Fate  of  all  their  Vintage  prest, 

Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before, 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  Rest. 

XXII 

And  we,  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  Bloom, 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend,  ourselves  to  make  a  Couch  —  for  whom  ? 

XXIII 

Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  we  yet  may  spend, 
Before  we  too  into  the  Dust  descend  ; 

Dust  into  -Dust,  and  under  Dust,  to  lie, 
Sans  Wine,  sans  Song,  sans  Singer,  and  —  sans  End  ! 


Fourth  Edftiou.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         31 
XXI 

Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  Cup  that  clears 
TO-DAY  of  past  Regret  and  future  Pears  : 

To-morrow  !  —  Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday's  Sevn  thousand  Years. 

XXII 

For  some  ive  loved,  the  loveliest  and  the  best 
That  from  his  Vintage  rolling  Time  hath  prest, 
Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before, 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  rest. 

XXIII 

And  we  that  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  neiv  bloom, 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend — ourselves  to  make  a  Couch — for  whom? 

XXIV 

Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  we  yet  may  spend, 
Before  we  too  into  the  Dust  descend  ; 

Dust  into  Dust,  and  under  Dust,  to  lie, 
Sans  Wine,  sans  Song,  sans  Singer,  and — sans  End ! 


Xf 

32  RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.     Firit  Edition. 

XXIV 

Alike  for  those  who  for  To- DAY  prepare, 
And  those  that  after  a  To-MORROW  stare, 

A  Muezzin  from  the  Tower  of  Darkness  cries 
"  Fools  !  your  Reward  is  neither  Here  nor  There  !  " 

XXV 

Why,  all  the  Saints  and  Sages  who  discuss'd 
Of  the  Two  Worlds  so  learnedly,  are  thrust 

Like  foolish  Prophets  forth ;  their  Words  to  Scorn 
Are  scatter'd,  and  their  Mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust. 

XXVI 

Oh,  come  with  old  Khayyam,  and  leave  the  Wise 
To  talk ;   one  thing  is  certain,  that  Life  flies  ; 
One  thing  is  certain,  and  the  Rest  is  Lies ; 
The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  for  ever  dies. 

XXVII 

Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  Argument 

About  it  and  about :   but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  Door  as  in  I  went. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.         33 
XXV 

Alike  for  those  wiw  for  To-DAY /?r/wr, 
And  those  that  after  some  To-MORROW  stare 

A  Muezzin  from  the  Tower  of  Darkness  cries, 
"Fools !  your  Reward  is  neither  Here  nor  There." 

XXVI 

Why,  all  the  Saints  and  Sages  ivho  discuss 'd 
Of  the  two  Worlds  so  wisely  —  they  are  thrust 

Like  foolish  Prophets  forth  ;  their  Words  to  Scorn 
Are  scattered,  and  their  Mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust. 


(See  Stanza  LXIII.) 


xxvn 

Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  argument 

About  it  and  about :  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  door  tvhere  in  I  went. 


34  RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XXVIII 

With  them  the  Seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow, 
And  with  my  own  hand  labour'd  it  to  grow  : 

And  this  was  all  the  Harvest  that  I  reap'd  — 
"  I  came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  I  go." 

XXIX 

Into  this  Universe,  and  why  not  knowing, 
Nor  whence,  like  Water  willy-nilly  flowing : 
And  out  of  it,  as  Wind  along  the  Waste, 
I  know  not  whither,  willy-nilly  blowing. 

XXX 

What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  zvhcncc  ? 
And,  without  asking,  whither  hurried  hence  ! 

Another  and  another  Cup  to  drown 
The  Memory  of  this  Impertinence! 

XXXI 

Up  from  Earth's  Centre  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate, 

And  many  Knots  unravel'd  by  the  Roacl ; 
But  not  the  Knot  of  Human  Death  and  Fate. 


^ 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         35 
XXVIII 

With  them  the  seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow, 

And  with  mine  own  hand  wrought  to  make  it  groiv  ; 

And  this  was  all  the  Harvest  that  I  reaped  — 
"  I 'came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  I  go." 

XXJX 

Into  this  Universe,  and  Why  not  knowing 
Xor  Whence,  like  Water  willy-nilly  fiowing ; 

And  out  of  it,  as  Wind  along  the  Waste, 
I  know  not  Whither,  willy-nilly  blowing. 

xxx 

What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  Whence  ? 
And,  without  asking,  Whither  hurried  hence  ! 

Oh,  many  a  Cup  of  this  forbidden  Wine 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence  ! 

XXXI 

Up  from  Earth's  Centre  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate, 

And  many  a  Knot  unravel d  by  the  Road  ; 
But  not  the  Master-knot  of  Human  Fate. 


36  RUBAIYAT    OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XXXII 

There  was  a  Door  to  which  I  found  no  Key : 
There  was  a  Veil  past  which  I  could  not  see : 

Some  little  Talk  awhile  of  ME  and  THEE 
There  seemed  —  and  then  no  more  of  THEE  and  ME. 


XXXIII 


Then  to  the  rolling  Heav'n  itself  I  cried, 
Asking,  "  What  Lamp  had  Destiny  to  guide 

"  Her  little  Children  stumbling  in  the  Dark  ?  " 
And  —  "A  blind  Understanding!"  Heav'n  replied. 


xxxiv 


Then  to  this  earthen  Bowl  did  I  adjourn 
My  Lip  the  secret  Well  of  Life  to  learn  : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur'd — "While  you  live 
"  Drink  ! — for  once  dead  you  never  shall  return." 


Fourth  Editiou.     RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.         37 
XXXII 

There  was  the  Door  to  which  I  found  no  Key ; 
There  was  the  Veil  through  which  I  might  not  sec  : 

Some  little  talk  awhile  of  ME  and  THEE 
There  was  —  and  then  no  more  of  THEE  and  ME. 

XXXIII 

Earth  could  not  answer ;  nor  the  Seas  that  mourn 
In  flowing  Purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn  ; 

Nor  rolling  Heaven,  with  all  his  Signs  reveal V/ 
And  hidden  by  the  sleeve  of  Night  and  J\Iorn. 

XXXIV 

Then  of 'the  THEE  IN  ME  who  works  behind 
The  Veil,  I  lifted  up  my  hands  to  find 

A  Lamp  amid  the  Darkness  ;  and  I  heard, 
As  from  Without — "THE  ME  WITHIN  THEE  BLIND!" 

xxxv 

Then  to  the  Lip  of  this  poor  earthen  Urn 
I  leand,  the  Secret  of  my  Life  to  learn  : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur  d — "  While  yon  live, 
"Drink ! — for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return." 


38          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XXXV 

I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive 
Articulation  answer'd,  once  did  live, 

And  merry-make ;  and  the  cold  "Lip  I  kiss'd 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take  —  and  give  ! 

xxxvi 

For  in  the  Market-place,  one  Dusk  of  Day, 
I  watch'd  the  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay : 

And  with  its  all  obliterated  Tongue 
It  murmur'd  —  "Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray!" 

XXXVII 

Ah,  fill  the  Cup  : — what  boots  it  to  repeat 
How  Time  is  slipping  underneath  o'ur  Feet: 

Unborn  To-MORROW,  and  dead  YESTERDAY, 
Why  fret  about  them  if  To-DAY  be  sweet ! 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM.         39 

XX XVI 

I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive 
Articulation  ansiverd,  once  did  live, 

And  drink ;  and  All  !  the  passive  Lip  I  kiss1  d, 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take  —  and  give  ! 

XXXVII 

For  I  remember  stopping  by  the  ivay 

To  watch  a  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay  : 

And  with  its  all-obliterated  Tongue 
It  murmur  d — "Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray  /" 


(See  Stanza  LVII.) 


xxx  vn I 


And  has  not  such  a  Story  from  of  Old 
Doivn  Man's  successive  generations  rolVd 

Of  such  a  cloud  of  saturated  Eartli 
Cast  by  the  Maker  into  Human  mould  ? 


40  RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR    KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


(See  Stanza  xi.virj 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.         41 

XXXIX 

And  not  a  drop  that  from  our  Cups  ^ve  throw 
For  EartJi  to  drink  of,  but  may  steal  below 

To  quench  t 'he  fire  of  Anguish  in  some  Eye 
There  hidden  — far  beneath,  and  long  ago. 

XL 

As  then  the  Tulip  for  her  morning  sup 

Of  Heavnly  Vintage  from  the  soil  looks  up, 

Do  you  devoutly  do  the  like,  till  Heavn 
To  Eartli  invert  you  —  like  an  empty  Cup. 

XLI 

Perplext  no  more  with  Human  or  Divine, 
To-morrow's  tangle  to  the  winds  resign, 
And  lose  your  fingers  in  the  tresses  of 
Tlie  Cypress-slender  Minister  of  Wine. 

XLII 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press, 
End  in  wJiat  All  begins  and  ends  in  —  Yes ; 

Think  then  yon  arc  To- DAY  what  YESTERDAY 
You  w'crc — To- MORROW  JYW  shall  not  be  less. 


42          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


(See  Stanza  XLVUlJ 


[From  Preface. 

Oh,  if  my  soul  can  fling  his  Dust  aside, 
And  naked  on  the  Air  of  Heaven  ride, 

Is  't  not  a  Shame,  is  't  not  a  Shame  for  Him 
So  long  in  this  Clay  Suburb  to  abide  ? 


Or  is  that  but  a  Tent,  where  rests  anon 
A  Sultan  to  his  Kingdom  passing  on, 

And  which  the  swarthy  Chamberlain  shall  strike 
Then  when  the  Sultan  rises  to  be  gone  ?] 


7?v: 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM.         43 
XL/// 

So  when  the  A  ngel  of  the  darker  Drink 
At  last  shall  find  yon  by  the  river-brink, 

And,  offering  his  Cup,  invite  your  Soul 
Forth  to  your  Lips  to  quaff — you  shall  not  shrink. 

XL1V 

Why,  if  the  Soul  can  fling  the  Dust  aside, 
A  nd  naked  on  the  A  ir  of  Heaven  ride, 

Wert  not  a  Shame — wer't  not  a  Shame  for  him 
In  this  clay  carcase  crippled  to  abide  ? 

XLV 

'  T  is  but  a  Tent  where  takes  his  one  day's  rest 
A  Sulttin  to  the  realm  of  Deatli  addrest  ; 
The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrdsh 
Strikes,  and  prepares  it  for  another^  Guest. 

XL  VI 

And  fear  not  lest  Existence  closing  your 
Account,  and  mine,  slwuld  know  the  like  no  more ; 

The  Eternal  Sdki  from  that  Bowl  has  pourd 
Millions  of  Bubbles  like  us,  and  will  pour. 


44          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


XXXVIII 


One  Moment  in  Annihilation's  Waste, 

One  Moment,  of  the  Well  of  Life  to  taste  — 

The  Stars  are  setting  and  the  Caravan 
Starts  for  the  Dawn  of  Nothing  —  Oh,  make  haste 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR  KHAYYAM.        45 

XL  VII 

When  You  and  I  behind  the  Veil  are  past, 

Oh,  but  the  long,  long  ivhile  the  World  shall  last, 

Which  of  our  Coming  and  Departure  heeds 
As  the  Sea  s  self  should  heed  a  pebble-cast. 

XL  VIII 

A  Moment's  Halt  —  a  momentary  taste 

Of  BEING  from  the  Well  amid  the  Waste  — 

And  Lo  ! — the  phantom  Caravan  has  rcacht 
The  NOTHING  it  set  out  from —  Oh,  make  haste  ! 

XLIX 

Would  you  that  spangle  of  Existence  spend 
About  THE  SECRET — quick  about  it,  Friend ! 
A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True 
A  nd  upon  what,  prithee,  does  life  depend  ? 


A  Hair  perhaps  divides  the  False  and  True ; 
Yes ;  and  a  single  Alif  were  the  clue  — 

Could  you  but  find  it  —  to  the  Treasure-house, 
And  per  adventure  to  THE  MASTER  too; 


46  RUBAIYAT    OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


XXXIX 

How  long,  how  long,  in  infinite  Pursuit 
Of  This  and  That  endeavour  and  dispute  ? 
Better  be  merry  with  the  fruitful  Grape, 
Than  sadden  after  none,  or  bitter,  Fruit. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         47 
LI 

Whose  secret  Presence,  through  Creation  s  veins 
Running  Quicksilver-like  eludes  your  pains  ; 

Taking  all  shapes  from  Mdh  to  Mdhi ;  and 
They  change  and  perish  all — but  He  remains; 

LI  I 

A  moment  guess  d — then  back  bcJiind  tlic  Fold 
Immerst  of  Darkness  round  the  Drama  rolVd 

Which,  for  the  Pastime  of  Eternity, 
He  doth  Himself  contrive,  enact,  behold. 

LIII 

But  if  in  vain,  doivn  on  the  stubborn  floor 

Of  Earth,  and  up  to  Hcavn's  unopcning  Door, 

You  gaze  TO-DAY,  while  You  are  You  —  how  then 
To-MORROW,  You  when  shall  be  You  no  more? 

LIV 

Waste  not  your  Hour,  nor  in  the  vain  pursuit 
Of  This  and  That  endeavour  and  dispute  ; 
Better  be  jocund  with  the  fruitful  Grape 
Than  sadden  after  none,  or  bitter,  Fruit. 


48          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XL 

You  know,  my  Friends,  how  long  since  in  my  House 
For  a  new  Marriage  I  did  make  Carouse : 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse. 

XLI 

For  "  Is  "  and  "  Is-NOT  "  though  with  Rule  and  Line. 
And  "  UP-AND-DOWN  "  without,  I  could  define, 

I  yet  in  all  I  only  cared  to  know, 
Was  never  deep  in  anything  but —  Wine. 


(Sec  Stanza  xxxvuj 


XL!  I 


And  lately,  by  the  Tavern  Door  agape, 

Came  stealing  through  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 

Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  Shoulder ;   and 
He  bid  me  taste  of  it ;   and  't  was  —  the  Grape  ! 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.         49 


You  knoiv,  my  Friends,  with  what  a  brave  Carouse 
I  made  a  Second  Marriage  in  my  house; 

Divorced  old  barren  Reason  from  my  Bed, 
And  took  the  Daughter  of  the  Vine  to  Spouse. 

LVI 

For  "  Is  "  and  "  IS-NOT  "  though  witJi  Rule  and  Line, 
And  "  UP-AND-DOWN  "  by  Logic  I  define, 
Of  all  that  one  should  care  to  fathom,  I 
Was  never  deep  in  anything  but  —  Wine. 

LVI  I 

Ah,  but  my  Computations,  People  say, 
Reduced  the  Year  to  better  reckoning  ?  —  Nay, 

~*  T  was  only  striking  from  the  Calendar 
Unborn  To-morrow,  and  dead  Yesterday. 

LVI  II 

And  lately,  by  the  Tavern  Door  agape, 

Came  shining  throng  JL  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 

Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  SJiouldcr  ;  and 
tic  bid  me  taste  of  it  ;  and  V  was  —  the  Grape  ! 


50          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XLIII 

The  Grape  that  can  with  Logic  absolute 
The  Tworand-Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute  : 

The  subtle  Alchemist  that  in  a  Trice 
Life's  leaden  Metal  into  Gold  transmute. 

XLIV 

The  mighty  Mahmiid,  the  victorious  Lord, 
That  all  the  misbelieving  and  black  Horde 
r  Of  Fears  and  Sorrows  that  infest  the  Soul 
Scatters  and  slays  with  his  enchanted  Sword. 

XLV 

But  leave  the  Wise  to  wrangle,  and  with  me 
The  Quarrel  of  the  Universe  let  be  : 

And  in  some  corner  of  the  Hubbub  coucht, 
Make  Game  of  that  which  makes  as  much  of  Thee. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT    OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.         51 

LIX 

The  Grape  that  can  ivith  Logic  absolute 
The  Two-and- Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute : 

The  sovereign  Alchemist  that  in  a  trice 
Lifes  leaden  metal  into  Gold  transmute  : 

LX 

The  migJity  MaJimud,  Allah-breathing  Lord, 
That  all  the  misbelieving  and  black  Horde 

Of  Fears  and  Sorrows  that  infest  the  Soul 
Scatters  before  him  with  his  whirlwind  Sword. 


LXI 

Why,  be  this  Juice  the  growth  of  God,  who  dare 
Blaspheme  the  tivistcd  tendril  as  a  Snare  ? 

A  Blessing,  we  should  use  it,  should  we  not  ? 
And  if  a  Curse  —  why,  then,   Who  set  it  there  ? 


/ul 


52          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR  KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


(See  Stanza  XXVI.) 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.         53 

LXI1 

I  must  abjtire  the  Balm  of  Life,  I  must, 
Scared  by  some  After-reckoning  taen  on  trust, 
Or  lured  witJi  Hope  of  some  Diviner  Drink, 
To  fill  the  Cup  —  when  crumbled  into  Dust ! 

LXIII 

Oh  threats  of  Hell  and  Hopes  of  Paradise  ! 
One  tiling  at  least  is  certain — This  Life  flies  ; 

One  thing  is  certain  and  the  rest  is  Lies  ; 
The  Flower  that  once  has  blown  for  ever  dies. 

LXIV 

Strange,  is  it  not  ?  that  of  the  myriads  who 
Before  us  pass'd  the  door  of  Darkness  through, 

Not  one  returns  to  tell  us  of  the  Road, 
Which  to  discover  ive  must  travel  too. 


LXV 

The  Revelations  of  Devout  and  Lcarrfd 
Who  rose  before  us,  and  as  Prophets  bnrn'd, 

Arc  all  but  Stories,  which,  awoke  from  Sleep 
They  told  their  comrades  and  to  Sleep  return' d. 


54          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


XLVI 

For  in  and  out,  above,  about,  below, 
'T  is  nothing  but  a  Magic  Shadow- show, 

Play'd  in  a  Box  whose  Candle  is  the  Sun, 
Round  which  we  Phantom  Figures  come  and  go. 

XLVI  I 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press, 
End  in  the  Nothing  all  Things  end  in  —  Yes  — 

Then  fancy  while  Thou  art,  Thou  art  but  what 
Thou  shalt  be  —  Nothing  —  Thou  shalt  not  be  less. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM.         55 

LXV1 

I  sent  my  Soul  throng Ji  the  Invisible, 
Some  letter  of  that  After- life  to  spell : 

And  by  and  by  my  Soul  return' d  to  me, 
And  answer' d  "I  Myself  am  Heav'n  and  Hell :  " 

LXVII 

Heav'n  but  the  Vision  of  fulfill' d  Desire, 
And  Hell  the  Shadow  from  a  Soul  on  fire 

Cast  on  the  Darkness  into  which  Ourselves, 
So  late  cmcrg'd  from,  shall  so  soon  expire. 

LXVII  I 

We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row 

Of  Magic  Shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go 

Round  witJi  the  Sun -illumin 'd  Lantern  held 
In  Midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  Show  ; 


(See  Stanza  XL//.  ) 


56          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR  KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

XLVIII 

While  the  Rose  blows  along  the  River  Brink, 
With  old  Khayyam  the  Ruby  Vintage  drink : 

And  when  the  Angel  with  his  darker  Draught 
Draws  up  to  Thee  —  take  that,  and  do  not  shrink. 

XLIX 

'T  is  all  a  Chequer-board  of  Nights  and  Days 
Where  Destiny  with  Men  for  Pieces  plays : 

Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  mates,  and  slays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays. 


The  Ball  no  Question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes, 
But  Right  or  Left,  as  strikes  the  Player,  goes ; 

And  He  that  toss'd  Thee  down  into  the  Field, 
He  knows  about  it  all —  HE  knows —  HE  knows 


LI 

The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  on  :   nor  all  thy  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  thy  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 


Fourth.  Editioii.     RUBAIYAT    OF   OMAR    KHAYYAM.         U  / 


(Sec  Stanza  XLIII.) 


LXIX 


But  helpless  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays 
Upon  this  Chequer-board  of  Nights  and  Days: 

Hither  and  tliitlicr  moves,  and  cheeks,  and  slays, 
A  nd  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays. 


The  Ball  no  question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes, 
But  Here  or  TJicrc  as  strikes  the  Player  goes  ; 
And  He  that  toss'd  you  dozvn  into  the  Field, 
ffe  knows  about  it  all —  HE  knows  —  HE  knows  ! 


LXXI 


The  Moving  Finger  writes ;  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  on  :  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 


58          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

LI  I 

And  that  inverted  Bowl  we  call  The  Sky, 
Whereunder  crawling  coop't  we  live  and  die, 

Lift  not  thy  hands  to  It  for  help  —  for  It 
Rolls  impotently  on  as  Thou  or  I. 

LIII 

With  Earth's  first  Clay  They  did  the  Last  Man's  knead, 
And  then  of  the  Last  Harvest  sow'd  the  Seed: 

Yea,  the  first  Morning  of  Creation  wrote 
What  the  Last  Dawn  of  Reckoning  shall  read. 


LIV 

I  tell  Thee  this  —  When  starting  from  the  Goal, 
Over  the  shoulders  of  the  flaming  Foal 

Of  Heav'n  Parwin  and  Mushtari  they  flung, 
In  my  predestin'd  Plot  of  Dust  and  Soul 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         59 
LXXII 

And  that  inverted  Bowl  they  call  the  Sky, 
Whereunder  crawling  coofid  we  live  and  die, 
Lift  not  your  hands  to  It  for  help — for  it 
As  impotently  moves  as  yon  or  I. 

LXXIII 

With  Earths  first  Clay  They  did  the  Last  Man  knead, 
And  there  of  the  Last  Harvest  sow'd  the  Seed  : 

And  the  first  Morning  of  Creation  wrote 
What  the  Last  Daivn  of  Reckoning  shall  read. 

LXXIV 

YESTERDAY  This  Day's  Madness  did  prepare  ; 
To-MoRROW's  Silence,  Triumph,  or  Despair: 

Drink  !  for  you  knoiv  not  whence  you  came,  nor  why : 
Drink  !  for  you  know  not  why  you  go,  nor  where. 

LXXV 

I  tell  you  tJiis — When,  started  from  the  Goal, 
Over  the  flaming  shoulders  of  the  Foal 

Of  Hcavn  Panvin  and  Mushtari  they  flung, 
In  my  predestined  Plot  of  Dust  and  Soul 


iV 


60          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

LV 

The  Vine  had  struck  a  Fibre  ;  which  about 
If  clings  my  Being  —  let  the  Sufi  flout; 

Of  my  Base  Metal  may  be  filed  a  Key, 
That  shall  unlock  the  Door  he  howls  without. 

LVI 

And  this  I  know :  whether  the  one  True  Light, 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite, 

One  Glimpse  of  It  within  the  Tavern  caught 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.        61 

LXXVI 

The  Vine  had  struck  a  fibre :  which  about 
If  clings  my  Being — let  the  DcrvisJi  flout ; 

Of  my  Base  metal  may  be  filed  a  Key, 
That  shall  unlock  the  Door  he  howls  without. 

LXXVII 

And  this  I  know  :  whether  the  one  True  Light 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite, 
One  flasJi  of  It  zuithin  the  Tavern  caugJit 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright. 

LXXVIH 

What !  out  of  senseless  Nothing  to  provoke 
A  conscious  Something  to  resent  the  yoke 
Of  unpcrmittcd  Pleasure,  under  pain 
Of  Everlasting  Penalties,  if  broke  ! 

LXXIX 

What !  from  his  helpless  Creature  be  repaid 
Pure  Gold  for  what  lie  lent  him  dross-allay  d— 

Sue  for  a  Debt  we  never  did  contract, 
And  cannot  answer — Oh  the  sorry  trade  ! 


62  RUBAIYAT   OF    OMAR   KHAYYAM.     Firnt  Edition. 

LVII. 

Oh,  Thou,  who  didst  with  Pitfall  and  with  Gin 
Beset  the  Road  I  -was  to  wander  in, 

Thou  wilt  not  with  Predestination  round 
Enmesh  me,  and  impute  my  Fall  to  Sin  ? 

LVIII 

Oh,  Thou,  who  Man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make 
And  who  with  Eden  didst  devise  the  Snake ; 
For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 
Is  blacken'd,  Man's  Forgiveness  give  —  and  take! 


KUZA-NAMA. 

LIX 

LISTEN  again.     One  Evening  at  the  Close 
Of  Ramazan,  ere  the  better  Moon  arose, 
In  that  old  Potter's  Shop  I  stood  alone 
With  the  clay  Population  round  in  Rows. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR  KHAYYAM.        63 

LXXX 

Oil  Than,  wlw  didst  with  pitfall  and  with  gin 
Beset  the  Road  I  tvas  to  wander  in, 

TJwu  wilt  not  with  Predestined  Evil  round 
Enmesh,  and  then  impute  my  Fall  to  Sin  ! 

LXXXI 

Oil  TJion,  who  Man  of  baser  Earth  didst  make, 
And  evn    with  Paradise  devise  the  Snake  : 

For  all  the  Sin  wherewith  the  Face  of  Man 
Is  blackciid —  Man's  forgiveness  give  —  and  take  ! 


LXXX1I 

As  under  cover  of  departing  Day 
Slunk  /lunger-stricken  Ramazan  away, 

Once  more  within  the  Potter  s  house  alone 
I  stood,  surrounded  by  t/ie  S/iapes  of  Clay. 


'Vi 

* 


64          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

LX 

And,  strange  to  tell,  among  that  Earthen  Lot 
Some  could  articulate,  while  others  not : 

And  suddenly  one  more  impatient  cried  — 
"Who  is  the  Potter,  pray,  and  who  the  Pot?" 


LXI 


Then  said  another  —  "Surely  not  in  vain 

"  My  Substance  from  the  common  Earth  was  ta'en, 

"  That  He  who  subtly  wrought  me  into  Shape 
"Should  stamp  me  back  to  common  Earth  again." 


LXI  I 


Another  said  —  "Why,  ne'er  a  peevish  Boy, 

"  Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  Joy ; 

"  Shall  He  that  made  the  Vessel  in  pure  Love 
"And  Fansy,  in  an  after  Rage  destroy  !" 


Fourth  Edition.       RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         65 


(See  Stanza  Lxxxvii.) 


Lxxxin 


Shapes  of  all  Sorts  and  Sizes,  great  and  small, 
That  stood  along  the  floor  and  by  the  ivall ; 

And  sonic  loquacious  vessels  ivere ;  and  sonic 
Listened  perhaps,  but  never  talk'd  at  all. 


LXXXIV 

Said  one  among  them  —  "Surely  not  in  vain 
My  substance  of  the  common  Earth  was  ta'en 

And  to  this '^Figure  moulded,  to  be  broke, 
Or  trampled  back  to  shapeless  Earth  again. 

LXXXV 

Then  said  a  Second —  "Ne'er  a  peevish  Boy 

"Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  joy ; 

"And  He  that  with  his  hand  the  Vessel  made 
"  Will  surely  not  in  after  WratJi  destroy.''1 


66          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

LXIII 

None  answer'd  this ;  but  after  Silence  spake 
A  Vessel  of  a  more  ungainly  Make  : 

"  They  sneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  awry  ; 
"  What  !  did  the  Hand  then  of  the  Potter  shake  ?  " 


(Sec  Stanza  Lxj 


LXIV 

Said  one  —  "Folks  of  a  surly  Tapster  tell, 
"And  daub  his  Visage  with  the  Smoke  of  Hell ; 

"  They  talk  of  some  strict  Testing  of  us  —  Pish  ! 
"  He  's  a  Good  Fellow,  and  't  will  all  be  well." 

LXV 

Then  said  another  with  a  long-drawn  Sigh, 
"My  Clay  with  long  oblivion  is  gone  dry: 
"  But,  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
"  Methinks  I  might  recover  by-and-bye  !  " 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT    OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         67 

LXXXVI 

After  a  momentary  silence  spake 
Some  Vessel  of  a  more  ungainly  make  : 

"  They  sneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  aivry  : 
"  What  /  did  the  Hand  then  of  the  Potter  shake  ?" 

LXXXVII 

Whereat  sonic  one  of  the  loquacious  Lot  — 
/  think  a  Sufi  pipkin  —  waxing  hot  — 

"All  this  of  Pot  and  Potter —  Tell  me  then, 
"  Who  is  the  Potter,  pray,  and  w/io  the  Pot  ?  " 

LXXXVIII 

"Why"  said  anotJicr,  "Sonic  there  are  who  tell 
"  Of  one  who  threatens  he  will  toss  to  If  el  I 

"  77ie  luckless  Pots  he  marrd  in  making —  Pish  ! 
"He  's  a  Good  Felloiv,  and  't  will  all  be  well." 

LXXXIX 

"Well"  murmur  d  one,  "Let  whoso  make  or  buy, 
"My  Clay  zvith  long  Oblivion  is  gone  dry: 
"  But  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
"Met/links  I  might  recover  by  and  by." 


[y 


68          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speaking, 
One  spied  the  little  Crescent  all  were  seeking : 

And  then  theyjogg'd  each  other,  "Brother!  Brother! 
"  Hark  to  the  Porter's  Shoulder-knot  a-creaking!  " 


LXVII 


Ah,  with  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide, 
And  wash  my  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died, 

And  in  the  Windingsheet  of  Vine-leaf  wrapt, 
So  bury  me  by  some  sweet  Garden-side. 


LXVII  I 


That  ev'n  my  buried  Ashes  such  a  Snare 
Of  Perfume  shall  fling  up  into  the  Air, 

As  not  a  True  Believer  passing  by 
But  shall  be  overtaken  unaware. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         69 

XC 

So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speaking, 
The  little  Moon  look'd  in  that  all  were  seeking  : 

And  then  they  jogg1  d  each  other,  "Brother!  Brother! 
"Now  for  the  Porter's  shoulder-knot  a-creaking  !  " 


XCI 

All,  wit] i  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide, 
And  wash  the  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died, 

And  lay  me,  shrouded  in  the' living  Leaf, 
By  some  not  unfrequented  Garden-side. 

XCII 

That  cv  n  my  buried  Ashes  such  a  snare 
Of  Vintage  shall  fling  up  into  the  Air 

As  not  a  True-believer  passing  by 
But  shall  be  overtaken  unaware. 


70          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAE   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 

LXIX 

Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 

Have  done  my  Credit  in  Men's  Eye  much  wrong  : 

Have  drown'd  my  Honour  in  a  shallow  Cup, 
And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

LXX 

Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before 
I  swore  —  but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  thread-bare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 

LXXI 

And  much  as  Wine  has  play'd  the  Infidel, 
And  robb'd  me  of  my  Robe  of  Honour  —  well, 

I  often  wonder  what  the  Vintners  buy 
One  half  so  precious  as  the  Goods  they  sell. 

LXXII 

Alas,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose  ! 
That  Youth's  sweet-scented  Manuscript  should  close  ! 

The  Nightingale  that  in  the  Branches  sang, 
Ah,  whence,  and  whither  flown  again,  who  knows  ! 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.         71 

XCIII 

Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 

Have  done  my  credit  in  this  World  mucJi  wrong: 

Have  drown  d  my  Glory  in  a  sJiallow  Cup, 
And  sold  my  reputation  for  a  Song. 

XCIV 

Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before 

I  swore  —  but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore  ? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  thread- bare  Penitence  apiece s  tore. 

XCV 

And  much  as  Wine  has  play' d  the  Infidel, 
And  robUd  me  of  my  Robe  of  Honour —  Well, 

I  wonder  often  what  the  Vintners  buy 
One  half  so  precious  as  the  stuff  they  sell. 

XCVI 

Yet  Ah,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose  ! 
That  You  t /is  sweet-scented  manuscript  should  close  ! 

The  Nightingale  that  in  the  branches  sang, 
Ah  iv hence,  and  whither  flown  again,  who  knows  / 


72          RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.     First  Edition. 


LXXIII 

Ah  Love  !  could  thou  and  I  with  Fate  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  Things  entire, 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits  —  and  then 
Re-mould  it  nearer  to  the  Heart's  Desire  ! 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM.        73 

xcvn 

Would  but  the  Desert  of  the  Fountain  yield 
One  glimpse  —  if  dimly,  yet  indeed,  reveal d, 

To  which  the  fainting  Traveller  might  spring, 
As  springs  the  trampled  herbage  of  the  field  f 

XCVIII 

Would  but  some  winged  Angel  ere  too  late 
Arrest  the  yet  unfolded  Roll  of  Fate, 

And  make  the  stern  Recorder  otlicrivisc 
Enrcgistcr,  or  quite  obliterate  ! 

xcix 

All  Love!  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  Scheme  of  Things  entire, 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits  —  and  then 
Re-mould  it  nearer  to  the  Heart's  desire ! 


74          RUBAIYAT  OF   OMAR  KHAYYAM.     Firet  Edition. 

LXXIV 

Ah,  Moon  of  my  Delight  who  know'st  no  wane, 
The  Moon  of  Heav'n  is  rising  once  again  : 

How  oft  hereafter  rising  shall  she  look 
Through  this  same  Garden  after  me  —  in  vain  ! 

LXXV 

And  when  Thyself  with  shining  Foot  shalt  pass 
Among  the  Guests  Star-scatter'd  on  the  Grass, 

And  in  thy  joyous  Errand  reach  the  Spot 
Where  I  made  one  —  turn  down  an  empty  Glass 


TAMAiM    SHUD. 


Fourth  Edition.     RUBAIYAT   OP    OMAR    KHAYYAM.         75 


Yon  rising  Moon  that  looks  for  ns  again  — 
How  oft  hereafter  ^v^ll  she  wax  and  ivane  ; 

How  oft  hereafter  rising  look  for  ns 
Through  this  same  Garden  —  and  for  one  /;/  vain  ! 

Cl 

And  when  like  her,  oh  Sdki,  you  shall  pass 
Among  the  Guests  Star-scatter 'd  on  the  Grass, 

And  in  your  joyous  errand  reach  the  spot 
Where  I  made  One — ////'//  down  an  empty  Glass  ! 


TAMAM. 


ITOTES. 

[The  references  are,  except  in  the  first  note  only,  to  the  stanzas 
of  the  Fourth  edition.] 

(Stanza  I.)  Flinging  a  Stone  into  the  Cup  was  the  signal 
for  "  To  Horse  !  "  in  the  Desert. 

(II.)  The  "False  Dawn;"1"1  SuWii  Kdzib,  a  transient  Light 
on  the  Horizon  about  an  hour  before  the  Sul>hi  sddik  or  True 
Dawn ;  a  well-known  Phenomenon  in  the  East. 

(IV.)  New  Year.  Beginning  with  the  Vernal  Equinox,  it 
must  be  remembered ;  and  (howsoever  the  old  Solar  Year  is 
practically  superseded  by  the  clumsy  Lunar  Year  that  dates 
from  the  Mohammedan  Hijra)  still  commemorated  by  a  Fes- 
tival that  is  said  to  have  been  appointed  by  the  very  Jamshyd 
whom  Omar  so  often  talks  of,  and  whose  yearly  Calendar  he 
helped  to  rectify. 

"  The  sudden  approach  and  rapid  advance  of  the  Spring," 
says  Mr.  Binning,  "  are  very  striking.  Before  the  Snow  is 
well  off  the  Ground,  the  Trees  burst  into  Blossom,  and  the 
Flowers  start  from  the  Soil.  At  Naw  Rooz  (their  New  Year's 
Day)  the  Snow  was  lying  in  patches  011  the  Hills  and  in  the 
shaded  Vallies,  while  the  Fruit-trees  in  the  Garden  were 
budding  beautifully,  and  green  Plants  and  Flowers  springing 
upon  the  Plains  on  every  side  — 

'  And  on  old  Hyems'  Chin  and  icy  Crown 
'  An  odorous  Chaplet  of  sweet  Summer  buds 
t  Is,  as  in  mockery,  set  — 

Among  the  Plants  newly  appear'd  I  recognized  some  Acquaint- 
ances I  had  not  seen  for  many  a  Year:  among  these,  two 
varieties  of  the  Thistle ;  a  coarse  species  of  the  Daisy,  like 
the  Horse-gowan  ;  red  and  white  clover ;  the  Dock ;  the  blue 
Corn-flower;  and  that  vulgar  Herb  the  Dandelion  rearing  its 


NOTES.  77 

yellow  crest  on  the  Banks  of  the  Water-courses."  The  Night- 
ingale was  not  yet  heard,  for  the  Rose  was  not  yet  blown :  but 
an  almost  identical  Blackbird  and  Woodpecker  helped  to 
make  up  something  of  a  North-country  Spring. 

"  The  White  Hand  of  Moses."  Exodus  iv.  6 ;  where  Moses 
draws  forth  his  Hand  —  not,  according  to  the  Persians,  "  leprous 
as  Snow"  —  but  ivhite,  as  our  May-blossom  in  Spring  perhaps. 
According  to  them  also  the  Healing  Power  of  Jesus  resided 
in  his  Breath. 

(V.)  Irani,  planted  by  King  Shaddad,  and  now  sunk  some- 
where in  the  Sands  of  Arabia.  Jamshyd's  Seven-ring'd  Cup 
was  typical  of  the  7  Heavens,  7  Planets,  7  Seas,  &c,,  and  was 
a  Divining  Cup. 

(VI.)  Pelilevi,  the  old  Heroic  Sanskrit  of  Persia.  Hafiz  also 
speaks  of  the  Nightingale's  Pehlevi,  which  did  not  change  with 
the  People's. 

I  am  not  sure  if  the  fourth  line  refers  to  the  Red  Rose  look- 
ing sickly,  or  to  the  Yellow  Rose  that  ought  to  be  Red ;  Red, 
White,  and  Yellow  Roses  all  common'in  Persia.  I  think  that 
Southey  in  his  Common-Place  Book,  quotes  from  some  Span- 
ish author  about  the  Rose  being  White  till  10  o'clock ;  "  Rosa 
Perfecta  "  at  2  ;  and  "  perfecta  incarnada  "  at  5. 

(X.)  Rustum,  the  "  Hercules"  of  Persia,  and  Zal  his 
Father,  whose  exploits  are  among  the  most  celebrated  in 
the  Shahnama.  Hatiin  Tai,  a  well-known  type  of  Oriental 
Generosity. 

(XIII.)     A  Drum  —  beaten  outside  a  Palace. 

(XIV.)     That  is,  the  Rose's  Golden  Centre. 

(XVIII.)  Persepolis:  call'd  also  Takht-i-JamsJiyd  —  THE 
THRONE  OF  JAMSHYD,  "King  Splendid,"  of  the  mythical  Pesli- 
dddian  Dynasty,  and  supposed  (according  to  the  Shah-iiama) 
to  have  been  founded  and  built  by  him.  Others  refer  it  to 
the  Work  of  the  Genie  King,  Jan  Ibn  Jan  —  who  also  built 
the  Pyramids  —  before  the  time  of  Adam. 

BAHRAM  GUR. —  Bahmm  of  the  Wild  Ass  —  a  Sassanian 
Sovereign  —  had  also  his  Seven  Castles  (like  the  King  of 


78  NOTES. 

Bohemia  !)  each  of  a  different  Colour :  each  with  a  Royal 
Mistress  within  ;  each  of  whom  tells  him  a  Story,  as  told  in 
one  of  the  most  famous  Poems  of  Persia,  written  by  Amir 
Khusraw  :  all  these  Sevens  also  figuring  (according  to  Eastern 
Mysticism)  the  Seven  Heavens ;  and  perhaps  the  Book  itself 
that  Eighth,  into  which  the  mystical.  Seven  transcend,  and 
within  which  they  revolve.  The  Ruins  of  Three  of  those 
Towers  are  yet  shown  by  the  Peasantry ;  as  also  the  Swamp  in 
which  Bahram  sunk,  like  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  while 
pursuing  his  Gur. 

The  Palace  that  to  Heav'n  his  pillars  threw, 
And  Kings  the  forehead  on  his  threshold  drew  — 

I  saw  the  solitary  Ringdove  there, 
And  "  Coo,  coo,  coo,"  she  cried;  and  "  Coo,  coo,  coo." 

[Included  in  Nicolas' s  edition  as  No.  350  of  the  Rubdiyydt,  and 
also  in  Mr.  WJiin.fi eld's  translation.] 

This  Quatrain  Mr.  Binning  found,  among  several  of  Hafiz 
and  others,  inscribed  by  some  stray  hand  among  the  ruins  of 
Persepolis.  The  Ringdove's  ancient  Pehlevi  Coo,  Coo,  Coo, 
signifies  also  in  Persian  "  Where?  Where?  Where?"11  In 
Attar's  "  Bird-parliament "  she  is  reproved  by  the  Leader  of 
the  Birds  for  sitting  still,  and  for  ever  harping  on  that  one 
note  of  lamentation  for  her  lost  Yusuf . 

Apropos  of  Omar's  Red  Roses  in  Stanza  xix,  I  am  reminded 
of  an  old  English  Superstition,  that  our  Anemone  Pulsatilla, 
or  purple  "  Pasque  Flower,"  (which  grows  plentifully  about 
the  Fleam  Dyke,  near  Cambridge,)  grows  only  where  Danish 
Blood  has  been  spilt. 

(XXI.)     A  thousand  years  to  each  Planet. 

(XXXI.)     Satuni,  Lord  of  the  Seventh  Heaven. 

(XXXII.)  ME-AND-THEE  :  some  dividual  Existence  or 
Personality  distinct  from  the  Whole. 

(XXXVII.)  One  of  the  Persian  Poets  — Attar,  I  think - 
has  a  pretty  story  about  this.  A  thirsty  Traveller  dips  his 


NOTES.  79 

hand  into  a  Spring  of  Water  to  drink  from.  By-and-by  comes 
another  who  draws  up  and  drinks  from  an  earthen  bowl,  and 
then  departs,  leaving  his  Bowl  behind  him.  The  first  Trav- 
eller takes  it  np  for  another  draught ;  but  is  surprised  to  find 
that  the  same  Water  which  had  tasted  sweet  from  his  own 
hand  tastes  bitter  from  the  earthen  Bowl.  But  a  Voice  — 
from  Heaven,  I  think  —  tells  him  the  clay  from  Avhich  the 
Bowl  is  made  was  once  Man  ;  and,  into  whatever  shape 
renew'd,  can  never  lose  the  bitter  flavor  of  Mortality. 

(XXXIX.)  The  custom  of  throwing  a  little  Wine  on  the 
ground  before  drinking  still  continues  in  Persia,  and  perhaps 
generally  in  the  East.  Mons.  Nicolas  considers  it  "  un  signe 
de  liberalite,  et  en  meme  temps  un  avertissement  que  le  buveur 
doit  vider  sa  coupe  jusqu'a  la  derniere  goutte."  Is  it  not 
more  likely  an  ancient  Superstition ;  a  Libation  to  propitiate 
Earth,  or  make  her  an  Accomplice  in  the  illicit  Revel  ?  Or, 
perhaps,  to  divert  the  Jealous  Eye  by  some  sacrifice  of  super- 
fluity, as  with  the  Ancients  of  the  West  1  With  Omar  we  see 
something  more  is  signified  ;  the  precious  Liquor  is  not  lost, 
but  sinks  into  the  ground  to  refresh  the  dust  of  some  poor 
Wine-worshipper  foregone. 

Thus  Hafiz,  copying  Omar  in  so  many  ways  :  "When  thou 
drinkest  Wine  pour  a  draught  on  the  ground.  Wherefore 
fear  the  Sin  which  brings  to  another  Gain  J?  " 

(XLIII.)  According  to  one  beautiful  Oriental  Legend, 
Azrael  accomplishes  his  mission  by  holding  to  the  nostril  an 
Apple  from  the  Tree  of  Life. 

This,  and  the  two  following  Stanzas  would  have  been  with- 
drawn, as  somewhat  de  trop,  from  the  Text,  but  for  advice 
which  I  least  like  to  disregard. 

(LI.)     From  Mah  to  Mahi ;  from  Fish  to  Moon. 

(LVI.)  A  Jest,  of  coiirse,  at  his  Studies.  A  curious  mathe- 
matical Quatrain  of  Omar's  has  been  pointed  out  to  me  ;  the 
more  curious  because  almost  exactly  parall'd  by  some  Verses 
of  Doctor  Donne's,  that  are  quoted  in  Izaak  Walton's  Lives ! 
Here  is  Omar:  "You  and  I  are  the  image  of  a  pair  of  com- 


80  NOTES. 

passes ;  though  we  have  two  heads  (sc.  our  feet)  we  have  one 
body  5  when  we  have  fixed  the  centre  for  our  circle,  we  bring 
our  heads  (sc.  feet)  together  at  the  end."  Dr.  Donne : 

If  we  be  two,  we  two  are  so 
As  stiff  twin-conipasses  are  two ; 

Thy  Soul,  the  fixt  foot,  makes  no  show 
To  move,  but  does  if  the  other  do. 

And  though  thine  in  the  centre  sit, 
Yet  when  ray  other  far  does  roam, 

Thine  leans  and  hearkens  after  it, 
And  grows  erect  as  mine  comes  home. 

Such  thou  must  be  to  me,  who  must 
Like  the  other  foot  obliquely  run ; 

Thy  firmness  makes  my  circle  just, 
And  me  to  end  where  I  begun. 

(LIX.)  The  Seventy-two  Religions  supposed  to  divide  the 
World,  including  Islamism,  as  some  think  :  but  others  not. 

(LX.)  Alluding  to  Sultan  Mahmud's  Conquest  of  India 
and  its  dark  people. 

(LXVIII.)  Funusi  khiydl,  a  Magic-lanthorn  still  used  in 
India  ;  the  cylindrical  Interior  being  painted  with  various 
Figures,  and  so  lightly  poised  and  ventilated  as  to  revolve 
round  the  lighted  Candle  within. 

(LXX.)     A  very  mysterious  Line  in  the  Original : 

0  danad  0  danad  0  danad  0  


breaking  off  something  like  our  Wood-pigeon's  Note,  which 
she  is  said  to  take  up  just  where  she  left  off. 

(LXXV.)    Parwin  and  Mushtari  —  The  Pleiads  and  Jupiter. 

(LXXXVII.)  This  Relation  of  Pot  and  Potter  to  Man  and 
his  Maker  figures  far  and  wide  in  the  Literature  of  the  World, 


NOTES.  81 

from  the  time  of  the  Hebrew  Prophets  to  the  present  ;  when 
it  may  finally  take  the  name  of  "Pot  theism,"  by  which  Mr. 
Carlyle  ridiculed  Sterling's  "Pantheism."  My  Sheikh,  whose 
knowledge  flows  in  from  all  quarters,  writes  to  me  — 

"Apropos  of  old  Omar's  Pots,  did  I  ever  tell  you  the  sen- 
tence I  found  in  l  Bishop  Pearson  on  the  Creed  '  ?  '  Thus  are 
we  wholly  at  the  disposal  of  His  will,  and  our  present  and 
future  condition  framed  and  ordered  by  His  free,  but  wise 
and  just,  decrees.  Hath  not  tlie  potter  power  over  the  clay,  of 
the  same  lump  to  make  one  vessel  unto  honour,  and  another  unto 
dishonour?  (Rom.  ix.  21.)  And  can  that  earth-artificer  have 
a  freer  power  over  his  brother  potsherd  (both  being  made  of 
the  same  metal),  than  God  hath  over  him,  who,  by  the  strange 
fecundity  of  His  omnipotent  power,  first  made  the  clay  out 
of  nothing,  and  then  him  out  of  that  ?  '  ' 

And  again  —  from  a  very  different  quarter  —  "I  had  to 
refer  the  other  day  to  Aristophanes,  and  came  by  chance 
on  a  curious  Speaking-pot  story  in  the  Vespa?,  which  I  had 
quite  forgotten. 


1.1435 


Karf]Y°p0?-     Tr: 


<lH.  c()5yTvoc  ODV  t^euv  itv'  InefiapTOpaTO1 

Eifj'  YJ  S'J^apiTOc;  elitev,  El  val  tav  nopav, 
TYJV  fAapiopiav  TotDTYjV  laaac,  sv  td/c'. 
E-iojajxov  £TCpia>,  voov  Sv  si/s?  icXeiova. 

"  The  Pot  calls  a  bystander  to  be  a  witness  to  his  bad  treat- 
ment. The  woman  says,  '  If,  by  Proserpine,  instead  of  all 
this  'testifying'  (comp.  Cuddie  and  his  mother  in  i  Old  Mor- 
tality ! ')  you  would  buy  yourself  a  rivet,  it  would  show  more 
sense  in  you!'  The  Scholiast  explains  echinus  as  «YY°?  T:  *"A 


82  NOTES. 

One  more  illustration  for  the  oddity's  sake  from  the  "  Auto- 
biography of  a  Cornish  Rector,"  by  the  late  James  Hamley 
Tregenna.  1871. 

"  There  was  one  odd  Fellow  in  our  Company  —  he  was  so 
like  a  Figure  in  the  '  Pilgrim's  Progress '  that  Richard  always 
called  him  the  'ALLEGORY,'  with  a  long  white  beard — a 
rare  Appendage  in  those  days  —  and  a  Face  the  colour  of 
which  seemed  to  have  been  baked  in,  like  the  Faces  one  used 
to  see  on  Earthenware  Jugs.  In  our  Country-dialect  Earth- 
enware is  called  'dome';  so  the  Boys  of  the  Village  used 
to  shout  out  after  him  —  '  Go  back  to  the  Potter,  Old  Clome- 
face,  and  get  baked  over  again.'  For  the  'Allegory,'  though 
shrewd  enough  in  most  things,  had  the  reputation  of  being 
'  saift-baked^  i.  e.,  of  weak  intellect." 

(XC.)  At  the  Close  of  the  Fasting  Month,  Ramazan  (which 
makes  the  Mussulman  unhealthy  and  unamiable),  the  first 
Glimpse  of  the  New  Moon  (who  rules  their  division  of  the 
Year)  is  looked  for  with  the  utmost  Anxiety,  and  hailed  with 
Acclamation.  Then  it  is  that  the  Porter's  Knot  may  be 
heard  —  toward  the  Cellar.  Omar  has  elsewhere  a  pretty 
Quatrain  about  the  same  Moon  — 

"Be  of  Good  Cheer  —  the  sullen  Month  will  die, 
"And  a  young  Moon  requite  us  by  and  by: 

"  Look  how  the  Old  one  meagre,  bent,  and  wan 
"With  Age  and  Fast,  is  fainting  from  the  Sky!" 


FINIS. 


3* 


NOTES  BY  THE  EDITOR, 

GIVING  REFERENCES  FROM  FITZGERALD'S  RUBAIYYAT  TO  THE  ORIGI- 
NALS AS  PUBLISHED  BY  NICOLAS,  PARIS,  1867,  AXD  MR.  WHIN- 
FIELD'S  ENGLISH  VERSION  PRINTED  IN  1882;  WITH  OCCASIONAL 
LITERAL  RENDERINGS  IN  THE  FORM  AND  METRE  OF  THE 
ORIGINALS. 


The  Roman  numerals  on  the  left  refer  to  quatrains  of  the  Rubaiyyat  as 
published  in  the  Fourth  edition.  The  Arabic  figures  in  the  tlrst  column 
on  the  right  refer  to  the  Rubaiyyat  as  numbered  in  the  Paris  edition. 
The  Arabic  figures  of  the  last  column  refer  to  Whinfield's  translation. 


(F.)  (N.)          (W.» 

i.      This  rubffiy  is  not,  in  either  of  its  forms, 
found  in  Nicolas  or  in  Whinfield. 

II.    The  first  in  the  Persian  text  of  Nicolas 1  Absent 

The  following  is  a  nearly  exact  rendering,  both  of 
the  sense  and  the  metre  — 

Out  from  our  inn,  one  morn,  a  voice  came  roaring  —  "  Up ! 
Sots,  scamps,   and  madmen !   quit  your  heavy  snoring !  Up ! 

Come  pour  we  out  a  measure  full  of  wine,  and  drink ! 
Ere  yet  the  measure's  brimmed  for  us  they  're  pouring  up ! " 


I.  and  ii.  can  be  compared  with  N.  255,  W.  158  ; 
which  may  be  rendered  thus  — 

Lo !  the  dawn  breaks,  and  the  curtain  of  night  is  torn 
Up!  swallow  thy  morning  cup  —  Why  seem  to  mourn? 

Drink  wine,  my  heart !  for  the  dawns  will  come  and  come 
Still  facing  to  us  when  our  faces  to  earthward  turn ! 


84  NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 

(F.)  .  (N.)      (W.) 

in.     Not  in  the  Persian,  nor  in  Whinfield. 

iv 186    109 

"  The  thoughtful  soul  to  solitude  retires  "  is   the 
only  interpolation. 

v.       Not  in  the  Persian,  nor  in  Whinfield. 

VI.     Partly  original ;   partly  agreeing  with   153      94 

vil.    Not  found  in  the  Persian,  nor  in  Whinfield. 

vni 105      73 

Life  fleets  —  Why  care  we  then  be  it  sweet  or  bitter  ? 
At  Balkh  or  at  Naishiipvir  that  the  soul  shall  flitter? 

Drink  wine !  for  when  we  are  gone,  the  Moon  shall  ever 
Continue  to  wax  and  wane,  to  pale  and  slitter! 

ix.      Seems  compounded  of  two  Persian  stanzas,  <  <i7'n 

(  o  t  U 

370  of  the  original  may  be  rendei-ed  thus  — 

See  how  the  zephyr  tears  the  scarf  of  the  rose  away ; 
The  rose's  beauty  charms  the  I  nil  bill's  woes  away ! 

Go,  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  rose,  for  every  rose 
That  springs  from  the  earth,  again  to  earth  soon  goes  away! 

x.       Is  a  verbal  echo  of  the  Persian  stanza,   but 

quite  different  in  sense 416     235 

The  original  is  — 

So  long  as  thy  frame  of  flesh  and  of  bone  shall  be, 
Stir  not  one  step  outside  Fate's  hostelry ;  — 

Bow  to  no  foe  thy  neck,  were  't  Rnstum's  self, 
Take  from  no  friend  a  gift,  though  Hutim  he ! 

•    82 
xi    ?  S 

>  Compounded  of  three  stanzas <  413     234 

(448    247 
82  in  the  original  is  — 

In  the  Springtime,  biding  with  one  who  is  houri-fair, 
And  a  flask  of  wine,  if  't  is  to  be  had  — somewhere 
On  the  tillage's  grassy  skirt  —  Alack!  though  most 
May  think  it  a  sin,  I  feel  that  my  heaven  is  there ! 


NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR.  85 

(F.)  (N.)      (\V.) 

413  in  the  original  — 

A  flask  of  red  wine,  and  a  volume  of  sons,  together ; 
Half  ;i  loaf,— just  enough  the  ravage  of  Want  to  tether: 

Such  is  my  wish  —  then,  tliou  in  the  waste  with  me ! 
Oh!  sweeter  were  this  than  a  monarch's  crown  and  feather! 

(A  parallel  is  also  found  in  No.  146  of  the  Persian, 
which  runs  thus  — 

He  who  doth  here  below  but  half  a  loaf  possess, 

Who  for  his  own  can  claim  some  sheltering  nook's  recess, 

He  who  to  none  is  either  lord  or  thrall  — 
Go!  tell  him  he  enjoys  the  world's  full  happiness!) 

xui.  Compounded  of  two  stanzas,  the  first  of  which  ^  61 

is  not  in  the  printed  text c    92       43 

The  Persian  of  N.  92,  may  be  rendered  thus  — 

I  know  not  if  He  who  kiiea-dcd  my  clay  to  man 
Belong  to  the  host  of  Heaven  or  the  Hellish' clan ;  — 

A  life  mid  the  meadows,  with  Woman,  and  Music,  and  Wine, 
Heaven's  cash  is  to  me:  —  let  Heaven's  credit  thy  fancy  trepan! 

xiv.   Not  found  in  the  Persian  of  Nicolas 189 

xv.  156      95 


This  is  very  beautiful  in  Fitzgerald.     The  exact 
rendering  of  the  Persian  is  — 

Darling,  ere  sorrow  thy  nightly  couch  enfold  again, 
Bid  wine  be  brought,  red  sparkling  as  of  old,  again  ! 

—  And  (Jiou,  weak  fool!  think  not  that  thou  art  gold: 
When  buried,  none  will  dig  thee  up  from  the  mould  again  ! 

xvi.     Not  found  in  the  Persian  or  in  Whinfield. 

xvn 67       34 

This  old  inn  call'd  the  world,  that  man  shelters  his  head  in, 
(Pied  curtains  of  Dawn  and  of  Dusk  o'er  it  spreading:)— 
'T  is  the  banqueting-hall  many  Jamshids  have  quitted, 
The  couch  munv  Bahrams  have  found  their  last  bed  in! 


86  NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 

(F.)  (N.)      (W.) 

xviii 69      35 

Here,  where  Bahrain  oft  brimmed  his  glorious  chalice, 
Deers  breed  and  lions  sleep  in  the  ruined  palace;  — 

Like  the  wild  ass  he  lassoed,  the  great  Hunter 
Lies  in  the  snare  of  Death's  wild  Huntsman  callous ! 


xix.     Not  in  Nicolas'  Persian  text 58 

xx 59      31 

The  verdure  that  you  rivulet's  bank  arraying  is, 
"The  down  on  an  angel's  lip,"  in  homely  saying,  is  — 

O  tread  not  thereon  disdainfully !  -  it  springeth 
From  the  dust  of  some  tulip-cheek  that  there  decaying  is ! 

xxi 269    167 

Let  not  the  morrow  make  thee,  friend,  down-hearted ! 
Draw  profit  of  the  day  yet  undeparted : 

We  '11  join,  when  we  to-morrow  leave  this  mansion, 
The  band  seven  thousand  years  ago  that  started ! 

xxii.    A  very  beautiful   stanza  which  I  do  not  find 

in  the  Persian. 
xxni 348    205 

The  wheel  of  Heaven  thy  death  and  mine  is  bringing,  friend'. 
Over  our  lives  a  deadly  spell  't  is  flinging,  friend! 

Come,  sit  upon  this  turf,  for  little  time  is  left 
Ere  fresher  turf  shall  from  our  dust  be  springing,  friend ! 

xxiv.  Complementary  to  the  sense  of  xxni,  with 

an  addition  not  in  the  Persian, 
xxv 337    198 

Myriad  minds  a-busy  sects  and  creeds  to  learn, 
The  Doubtful  from  the  Sure  all  puzzled  to  discern : 

Suddenly  from  the  Dark  the  crier  raised  a  cry— 
"Not  this,  nor  Uiat,  ye  fools!  the  path  that  ye  must  turn!" 

How  delicately  and  skilfully  Fitzgerald  turns  the 
Persian  expression  literally  into  a  common  Eng- 
lish phrase,  "neither  here  nor  there,''  to  which 


V 


(P.) 


(N.) 


xxvin.     Not  in  Nicolas 

xxix.         i    Paraphrased  from  the  original    (not   in 
xxx.          I      Nicolas)  of 

There  is  a  hint  of  it  in  N.  42  and  in  W.  12,  which 
corresponds  to  N.  22.  This  last  may  be  ren- 
dered — 

This  life  is  tout  three  days'  space,  and  it  speeds  apace, 
Like  wind  that  sweeps  away  o'er  the  desert's  face : 

So  long  as  it  lasts,  two  days  ne'er  trouble  my  mind, 
—  The  daj'  undawned,  and  the  day  that  has  run  its  race. 


Neither  in  Nicolas 


XXXI. 
XXXII 

XXXIH.     A  fine  stanza ;  not  in  N.  or  in  W. 

xxxiv.     Not  in  N.  or  W. 

xxxv.       Not  in  the  Persian  text  of  Nicolas. 


87 

(W.) 


NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 

he  lends  new  force  and  effect !  Instead  of  "  from 
the  dark,  the  Crier,"  Whinfield  has  "from 
behind  the  veil  a  Voice,"  while  Fitzgerald  ex- 
presses it  in  a  fine  paraphrase,  "  A  Muezzin 
from  the  tower  of  Darkness." 


xxvi.  Evidently  from  a  Persian  source  which  I 
cannot  identify.  It  resembles  N.  120,  W. 
82,  which  correspond  to  the  following  — 

The  learned,  the  cream  of  mankind,  who  have  driven 
Intellect's  chariot  over  the  heights  of  heaven  — 

Void  and  o'ertunied,  like  that  blue  sky  they  trace, 
Are  dazed,  when  they  to  measure  Thee  have  striven  ! 

xxvii 225     143 

Forth,  like  a  hawk,  from  Mystery's  world  I  fly, 
Seeking  escape  to  win  from  the  Low  to  the  High : 

Arriving, —  when  none  I  find  who  the  secret  knows, 
Out  through  the  door  I  go  that  I  entered  by  ! 


185 
64 


161 
203 


149 


88 


NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 


(F.) 


(N.)      (\V.) 


A  similar  thought  is  contained  in  N.  389,  W.  223  — 

Sprung  from  the  Four,  and  the  Seven  !   I  see  that  never 
The  Four  and  the  Seven  respond  to  thy  brain's  endeavour — 

Drink  wine !  for  I  tell  thee,  four  times  o'er  and  more, 
Return  there  is  none !  —  Once  gone,  thou  art  gone  for  ever ! 

(The  four  elements  and  the  seven  heavens  from 
which  man  derives  his  essence.) 


xxxvi.      Perhaps  suggested  by  N.  28,  W.  17. 

XXXVII.  

xxxvili.  Perhaps  suggested  by  N.  119. 
xxxix. 


.211    137 


XLII. 
XLIII. 
XLIV. 
XLV. 


188    110 

40 

(294 

?  359 

Partly  altered  from 49       28 

Not  in  Nicolas 139 

Not  in  Nicolas 218 

.  80      37 


A  very  fine  and  sufficiently  close  rendering,  but 
the  final  "  prepares  it  for  another  guest  "  con- 
tains an  idea  which  confuses  the  relations  be- 
tween the  body  and  the  soul.  This  is  closer  — 

Thy  body  's  a  tent,  where  the  Soul,  like  a  King  in  quest 
Of  the  goal  of  Nought,  is  a  momentary  guest;  — 

He  arises;  Death's  far  rush  uproots  the  tent, 
And  the  King  moves  on  to  another  stage  to  rest. 


137 
319 


90 

190 


XL, vii.    Not  found  in  the  original. 
XLVIII.  Ditto.     Perhaps  suggested  by  N.  80  and  N. 
214.     The  latter  (214)  may  be  rendered  — 

Up !  smooth-faced  boy,  the  daybreak  shines  for  thee : 
Brimm'd  with  red  wine  let  the  crystal  goblet  be ! 

For  this  hour  is  lent  thee  in  the  House  of  Dust : — 
Another  thou  may'st  seek,  but  ne'er  slialt  see! 


NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 


(F.) 

XLIX.,  L.,  LI.  Not  found.  These  three  and  the  pre- 
ceding one  are  probably  founded  on  N.  365 
and  N.  214  blended. 


89 

(N.)      (W.) 


LII. 
LIII. 

LIV. 
LV. 


443 
.  49 


244 

28 


Not  found. 


.181     106 


A  double-sized  beaker  to  measure  my  wine  I  '11  take; 
Two  doses  to  fill  up  my  settled  design  I  '11  take; 
•  With  the  first,  I  '11  divorce  me  from  Faith  and  from  Reason  quite, 
With  the  next,  a  new  bride  in  the  Child  of  the  Vine  I  '11  take ! 

This  is  a  conceit  derived  from  the  Mohammedan 
law  of  divorce.     Similar  imagery  is  used  in 
N.  259. 
LVI.        Not    found.     Perhaps   suggested   from   the 

same  source  as  xxxv. 
LVII.      Not  found.    Derived  from  N.  22,  which  is 

noticed  under  xxix-xxx. 
LVIII 329 

A  tolerably  close  paraphrase  of  the  Persian  icord-s, 
but  conveying  a  totally  different  sense. 


LIX. 


179    105 


Only  the  last  line  differs  to  any  considerable  de- 
gree, and  Fitzgerald  has  in  it  replaced  the 
original  with  a  superior  idea. 


LX. 

LXI. 

LXII. 


LXIII. 
LXIV. 


Not  found. 

Suggested  by  the  conceits  of  cash  and  credit 
(i.  e.j  enjoyment  of  to-day,  put  in  opposi- 
tion to  ascetic  holiness  which  waits  for  joy 
in  the  next  world),  which  recur  frequently 
in  the  Persian. 

Not  found. 


90  NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOE. 


(F.) 
LXV. 


(N.) 

464 


(W.) 

116 


Is  not  so  good  as  the  original,  which  is  the  last 
stanza  of  the  Persian  text  as  given  by  Nicolas. 

Those  who  were  paragons  of  Worth  and  Ken, 
Whose  greatness  torchlike  lights  their  fellow  men, 

Out  of  this  night  profound  no  path  have  traced  for  us ;  — 
They  've  babbled  dreams,  then  fall'n  to  sleep  again ! 

LXVI.     Not  found. 

LXVII.    Altered  from 90      41 

LXVIII.  Improved  from  the  Persian 267    165 

This  vault  of  Heaven  at  which  we  gaze  astounded, 
May  by  a  painted  lantern  be  expounded : 

The  light 's  the  Sun,  the  lantern  is  the  World, 
And  We  the  figures  whirling  dazed  around  it ! 

LXIX 231    148 

But  puppets  are  we  in  Fate's  puppet-show — 
No  figure  of  speech  is  this,  but  in  truth  't  is  so ! 

On  the  draughtboard  of  Life  we  are  shuffled  to  and  fro. 
Then  one  by  one  to  the  box  of  Nothing  go! 

LXX.         Not  in  Nicolas  104 

LXXI 216    140 

Since  life  has,  love !  no  true  reality, 
Why  let  its  coil  of  cares  a  trouble  be? 

Yield  thee  to  Fate,  whatever  of  pain  it  bring: 
The  Pen  will  never  unwrite  its  writ  for  thee! 

LXXII 95  45 

LXXIII.  ^                                                                          <  216  140 

LXXIV.  V  Derived  from <    85  40 

LXXV.    )                                                                          (110  77 

LXXVI.      Not  found. 

LXXVII.    Altered  considerably  from 222  142 

In  the  tavern,  better  with  Thee  my  soul  I  share 
Than  in  the  mosque,  without  Thee,  uttering  prayer  — 

O  Thou,  the  First  and  Last  of  all  that  is! 
Or  doom  Thou  me  to  burn,  or  choose  to  spare. 


NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 


(F.) 


99 
190 

^268 


91 

(W.) 

46 
111 


390 


N.  99  is  as  follows  : 

When  the  Supreme  my  body  made  of  clay, 
He  well  foreknew  the  part  that  I  should  play  : 

Not  without  His  ordainment  have  I  Binned! 
Why  would  He  then  I  burn  at  Judgment-day? 

N.  380  contains  a  similar  idea,  and  has  perhaps 
furnished  suggestion  for  LXXIX  :  — 

The  wayward  caprices  my  life  that  have  tinted 
All  spring  from  the  mould  on  my  Being  imprinted  : 

Nought  else  and  nought  better  my  nature  conld  be  — 
I  am  as  I  came  from  the  crucible  minted  ! 

LXXXI.     Partly  from  the  same  sources  as  LXXVIII- 

LXXX,  and  partly  from  ..................  375 

But   the   original   does  not   contain   the   idea   of 
"  Man's  forgiveness  give  —  and  take  !  " 

N.  375  may  be  rendered  thus  : 

Woe  !  that  life's  work  should  be  so  vain  and  hollow  : 
Sin  in  each  breath  and  in  the  food  we  swallow! 

Black  is  my  face  that  what  was  Bid,  undone  is: 
—  If  done  the  Unbidden,  ah  !  what  then  must  follow  ? 


Contain  in  greater  diffuseness  the  exact 
idea  of..  ..243     156 


To  a  potter's  shop,  yestreen,  I  did  repair; 
Two  thousand  dumb  or  chattering  pots  were  there. 
All  turned  to  me,  and  asked  with  speech  distinct: 
"Who  is 't  that  makes,  that  buys,  that  sells  our  ware?" 


38 


Suggested  by  several  of  the  rnl>dii/>/dt. 


92                             NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOK. 

(P.) 

(N.)      (W.) 

LXXKIX.                                                                          

J  290    185 

1  1  15 

Wlieu  Fate,  at  lier  foot,  a  broken  wreck  shall  fling  me, 
And  when  Fate's  hand,  a  poor  plucked  fowl  shall  wring  me ; 

Beware,  of  my  clay,  aught  else  than  a  bowl  to  make, 
That  the  scent  of  the  wine  new  life  in  time  may  bring  me! 


XC. 

XCI. 


Not  in  the  original. 


Let  wine,  gay  comrades,  be  the  food  I  'in  fed  upon ;  — 
These  amber  cheeks  its  ruby  light  be  shed  upon! 

Wash  me  in  't,  when  I  die;  —  and  let  the  trees 
Of  my  vineyard  yield  the  bier  that  I  lie  dead  upon! 


109      76 


Not  in  the  original. 


.463     115 


Siiice  the  Moon  and  the  Star  of  Eve  first  shone  on  high, 
Nought  has  been  known  with  ruby  Wine  could  vie: 

Strange,  that  the  vintners  should  in  traffic  deal! 
Better  than  what  they  sell,  what  could  they  buy? 

128      80 

Ah !  that  young  Life  should  close  its  volume  bright  away ! 
Mirth's  springtime  green,  that  it  should  pass  from  sight  away ! 

Ah!  for  the  Bird  of  Joy  whose  name  is  Youth: 
We  know  not  when  she  came,  nor  when  took  flight  away ! 

xcvu.      Not  found  in  the  original. 

xcvin.  >  Suggested  by  N.  216,  340,  457  ;   W.  140,  ' 

xcix.     $      200,  251. 

N.  340  may  be  rendered  thus  : 

If  I  like  God  o'er  Heaven's  high  fate  could  reign. 
I  'd  sweep  away  the  present  Heaven's  domain, 

And  from  its  ruins  such  a  new  one  build 
That  an  honest  heart  its  wish  could  aye  attain! 

N.  457  is  as  follows  : 

I  would  God  were  this  whole  world's  scheme  renewing, 
—  And  now!  at  once!  that  I  might  see  it  doing! 

That  either  from  His  roll  my  name  were  cancelled, 
Or  luckier  days  for  me  from  Heaven  accruing! 


NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR.  93 

(F.)  (N.)     (W.) 

c.  $82 

'  i   94 

8  is  as  follows  : 

Since  none  can  bo  our  surety  for  to-morrow, 
Sweeten,  my  love,  thy  heart  to-day  from  sorrow : 

Drink  wine,  fair  Moon,  in  wine-light,  for  the  moon 
Will  come  again,  and  miss  us,  many  a  morrow ! 

94. 

The  moon  cleaves  the  skirt  of  the  night  —  then,  oh!  drink  \Viiie! 
For  never  again  will  moment  like  this  be  thine. 

Be  gay !  and  remember  that  many  and  many  a  moon 
Oil  the  surface  of  earth  again  and  again  will  shine! 

ci.  . .  192    112 


Appoint  ye  a  tryst,  happy  comrades,  anon! 

And  when  — as  your  revel  in  gladness  comes  on  — 

The  Saki  takes  goblet  in  hand,  oh !  remember, 
And  bless,  while  you  drink,  the  poor  fellow  that  's  gone ! 

The  following  may  be  added,  as  characteristic  of  the  spirit 
of  Omar  Khayyam : 

N.  2. 

Thou !  chosen  one  from  earth's  full  muster-roll  to  me  ! 
Dearer  than  my  two  eyes,  than  even  my  soul  to  me  ! 

—  Though  nothing  than  life  more  precious  we  esteem, 
Yet  dearer  art  thou,  niy  love,  a  hundred-fold  to  me ! 

N.  4. 

Nothing  but  pain  and  wretchedness  we  earn  in 
This  world  that  for  a  moment  we  sojourn  in  : 

We  go! — no  problem  solved  alas!  discerning; 
Myriad  regrets  within  our  bosoms  burning '. 

N.  5. 

O  master !  grant  us  only  this,  we  prithee : 

Preach  not!  but  (lurribly  guide  to  bliss,  we  prithee! 

"  \Yc  walk  not  straight  ?"  —  Xay,  it  is  thou  who  s([uintest ! 
Go,  heal  thy  eight,  and  leave  us  in  peace,  we  prithee : 


94  NOTES    BY    THE    EDITOR. 


N.   6. 

Hither !  coine  hither,  love !  my  heart  doth  need  thee ; 
Come,  and  expound  a  riddle  f  will  read  thee. 

The  earthen  jar  bring  too,—  and  let  us  drink,  love ! 
Ere,  turned  to  clay,  to  earthenware  they  knead  thee! 


N.  7. 

Wash  nit;  when  dead  in  the  juice  of  the  vine,  dear  friends ! 
Let  your  funeral  service  be  drinking  and  wine,  dear  friends ! 

And  if  you  would  meet  me  again  when  the  Doomsday  comes, 
.  Search  the  dust  of  the  tavern,  and  sift  from  it  mine,  dear  friends ! 

N.   13. 

Howe'er  with  beauty's  hue  and  bloom  eudow'd  I  be, 
Of  tulip-cheek  and  cypress-form  though  proud  I  be ; 

Yet  know  I  not  why  the  Limner  chose  that,  here,  in  this 
Mint-house  of  clay,  amid  the  painted  crowd  I  be ! 

N.  57. 

Unworthy  of  Hell,  unfit  for  Heaven,  I  be  — 

God  knows  what  clay  He  used  when  He  moulded  me! 

Foul  as  a  punk,  ungodly  as  a  monk, 
No  faith,  no  world,  no  hope  of  Heaven  I  see ! 

N.  88. 

Wicked,  men  call  me  ever;  yet  blameless  1! 
Think  how  it  is,  ye  Saints !  —  My  life,  ye  cry, 

Breaks  all  Heaven's  laws— Good  lack!  I  have  no  sin, 
That  needs  reproach,  save  wenching  and  drink!  — then,  why? 

N.  388. 

Oh!  Thou  hast  shattered  to  bits  my  jar  of  wine,  my  Lord! 

Thou  hast  shut  me  out  from  the  gladness  that  was  mine,  my  Lord ! 

Thou  hast  spilt  and  scattered  my  wine  upon  the  clay  — 
O  dust  in  my  mouth !  if  the  drunkness  be  not  Thine,  my  Lord ! 

According  to  the  testimony  of  an  old  MS.,  according  to 
M.  Nicolas,  the  third  line  of  this  stanza  ought  to  run  thus : 

"7  drink  the  wine;  'tis  Tliou  who  feel'st  its  power—" 


SALAMAN 

AND 

ABSAL. 

TRANSLATED   FROM    THE    PERSIAN   OF 


JAML 


NOTICE    OF    JAMIS    LIFE. 

Drawn  from  Rosenzweig's 
"  Biographische  Notizen"  of  the  Poet. 


NURUDDIN  ABDURRAHMAN,  Son  of  Maulana  Nizani- 
uddin  Ahmad,  and  descended  on  the  Mother's  side 
from  One  of  the  Four  great  "  FATHERS  "  of  Islamism, 
was  born  A.  H.  817,  A.  D.  1414,  in  Jam,  a  little  Town  of 
Khorasan,  whither  his  Grandfather  had  removed  from 
Desht  of  Ispahan  and  from  which  the  Poet  ultimately 
took  his  Takhallns,  or  Poetic  name,  JAMI.  The  word 
also  signifies  "A  Cup;"  wherefore,  he  says,  uBorn  in 
Jam,  and  dipt  in  the  "Jam"  of  Holy  Lore,  for  a  double 
reason  I  must  be  called  JAMI  in  the  Book  of  Song." ] 
He  was  celebrated  afterwards  in  other  Oriental  Titles — 
"Lord  of  Poets"  — "Elephant  of  Wisdom,"  &c.,  but 
latterly  liked  to  call  himself  "  The  Ancient  of  Herat," 
where  he  mainly  resided,  and  eventually  died. 

When  Five  Years  old  he  received  the  name  of  Niir- 
uddin  —  the  "  Light  of  Faith,"  and  even  so  early  began 
to  show  the  Metal,  and  take  the  Stamp  that  distin- 

1  He  elsewhere  plays  upon  his  name,  imploring  God  that  he 
may  be  accepted  as  a  Cup  to  pass  about  that  Spiritual  Wine  of 
which  the  Persian  Mystical  Poets  make  so  much. 


98  NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE. 

guished  him  through  Life.  In  1419,  a  famous  Sheikh, 
Khwajah  Mohammad  Parsa,  then  in  the  last  Year  of 
his  Life,  was  being  carried  through  Jam.  "I  was  not 
then  Five  Years  old/'  says  Jami,  "  and  my  Father,  who 
with  his  Friends  went  forth  to  salute  him,  had  me  car- 
ried on  the  Shoulders  of  one  of  the  Family  and  set  down 
before  the  Litter  of  the  Sheikh,  who  gave  a  Nosegay 
into  my  hand.  Sixty  Years  have  passed,  and  methinks 
I  now  see  before  me  the  bright  Image  of  the  Holy  Man, 
and  feel  the  Blessing  of  his  Aspect,  from  which  I  date 
my  after  Devotion  to  that  Brotherhood  in  which  I  hope 
to  be  enrolled." 

So  again,  when  Maulana  Fakhruddin  Loristani  had 
alighted  at  his  Mother's  house — "I  was  then  so  little 
that  he  set  me  upon  his  Knee,  and,  with  his  Fingers 
drawing  the  Letters  of  'All'  and  'OMAR'  in  the  Air, 
laughed  with  delight  to  hear  me  spell  them.  He  also 
by  his  Goodness  sowed  in  my  Heart  the  Seed  of  his 
Devotion,  which  has  grown  to  Increase  within  me  —  in 
which  I  hope  to  live,  and  in  which  to  die.  Oh  God ! 
Dervish  let  me  live,  and  Dervish  die ;  and  in  the  Com- 
pany of  the  Dervish  do  Thou  quicken  me  to  life 
again ! " 

Jami  first  went  to  a  School  at  Herat ;  and  afterward 
to  one  founded  by  the  Great  Tinmr  at  Samarcand. 
There  he  not  only  outstript  his  Fellow-students  in  the 
very  Encyclopedic  Studies  of  Persian  Education,  but 
even  puzzled  his  Doctors  in  Logic,  Astronomy,  and 
Theology ;  who,  however,  with  unresenting  Gravity 


I5T 


NOTICE    OF    JAMI'S    LIFE.  99 

welcomed  him  — "  Lo  !  a  new  Light  added  to  our  Gal- 
axy !  " — And  among  them  in  the  wider  Field  of  Samar- 
cand  he  might  have  liked  to  remain,  had  not  a  dream 
recalled  him  to  Herat.  A  Vision  of  the  Great  Sufi 
Master  there,  Mohammad  Saaduddin  Kashghari,  ap- 
peared to  him  in  his  Sleep,  and  bade  him  return  to  One 
who  would  satisfy  all  Desire.  Jami  returned  to  Herat ; 
he  saw  the  Sheikh  discoursing  with  his  Disciples  by 
the  Door  of  the  Great  Mosque ;  day  after  day  passed 
him  by  without  daring  to  present  himself;  but  the 
Master's  Eye  was  upon  him;  day  by  day  drew  him 
nearer  and  nearer  —  till  at  last  the  Sheikh  announces 
to  those  about  him  — "  Lo !  this  Day  have  I  taken  a 
Falcon  in  my  Snare  ! " 

Under  him  Jami  began  his  Sufi  Noviciate,  with  such 
Devotion,  both  to  Study  and  Master,  that  going,  he 
tells  us,  but  for  one  Summer  Holiday  into  the  Country, 
a  single  Line  sufficed  to  "lure  the  Tassel-gentle  back 
again ; " 

"  Lo !  here  am  I,  and  Thou  look's!  on  the  Kose !  " 

By-and-by  he  withdrew,  by  due  course  of  Sufi  In- 
struction, into  Solitude  so  long  and  profound,  that  on 
his  return  to  Men  he  had  almost  lost  the  Power  of  Con- 
verse with  them.  At  last,  when  duly  taught,  and  duly 
authorised  to  teach  as  Sufi  Doctor,  he  yet  would  not 
take  upon  himself  so  to  do,  though  solicited  by  those 
who  had  seen  such  a  Vision  of  him  as  had  drawn  him- 
self to  Herat ;  and  not  till  the  Evening  of  his  Life  was 


100  NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE. 

he  to  be  seen  taking  that  place  by  the  Mosque  which 
his  departed  Master  had  been  used  to  occupy  before. 

Meanwhile  he  had  become  Poet,  which  no  doubt 
winged  his  Reputation  and  Doctrine  far  and  wide 
through  a  People  so  susceptible  of  poetic  impulse. 

"  A  Thousand  times/'  he  says,  "  I  have  repented  of 
such  Employment ;  but  I  could  no  more  shirk  it  than 
one  can  shirk  what  the  Pen  of  Fate  has  written  on  his 
Forehead''  —  "As  a  Poet  I  have  resounded  through  the 
World;  Heaven  filled  itself  with  my  Song,  and  the 
Bride  of  Time  adorned  her  Ears  and  Neck  with  the 
Pearls  of  my  Verse,  whose  coming  Caravan  the  Per- 
sian Hafiz  and  Saadi  came  forth  gladly  to  salute,  and 
the  Indian  Khosru  and  Hasan  hailed  as  a  Wonder  of 
the  World."  u  The  Kings  of  India  and  Rum  greet  me 
by  Letter  :  the  Lords  of  Irak  and  Tabriz  load  me  with 
(lifts ;  and  what  shall  I  say  of  those  of  Khorasan,  who 
drown  me  in  an  Ocean  of  Munificence?" 

This,  though  Oriental,  is  scarcely  bombast.  Jami 
was  honoured  by  Princes  at  home  and  abroad,  at  the 
very  time  they  were  cutting  one  another's  Throats ;  by 
his  own  Sultan  Abii  Said ;  by  Hasan  Beg  of  Mesopo- 
tamia— "Lord  of  Tabriz" — by  whom  Abu  Said  was 
defeated,  dethroned,  and  slain ;  by  Mohammad  II.  of 
Turkey  —  "King  of  Rum" — who  in  his  turn  defeated 
Hasan ;  and  lastly  by  Husein  Mirza  Baikara,  who 
somehow  made  away  with  the  Prince  whom  Hasan  had 
set  up  in  Abu  Said's  Place  at  Herat.  Such  is  the  house 
that  Jack  builds  in  Persia. 


Lf 


NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE. 


101 


As  Hasan  Beg,  however  —  the  USUNCASSAN  of  old 
European  Annals  —  is  singularly  connected  with  the 
present  Poem,  and  with  probably  the  most  important 
event  in  Jami's  Life,  I  will  briefly  follow  the  Steps  that 
led  to  that  as  well  as  other  Princely  Intercourse. 

In  A.  H.  877,  A.  D.  1472,  Jami  set  off  on  his  Pilgrimage 
to  Mecca,  as  every  True  Believer  who  could  afford  it 
was  expected  once  in  his  Life  to  do.  He,  and,  on  his 
Account,  the  Caravan  he  went  with,  were  honourably 
and  safely  escorted  through  the  interjacent  Countries 
by  order  of  their  several  Potentates  as  far  as  Baghdad. 
There  Jami  fell  into  trouble  by  the  Treachery  of  a  Fol- 
lower whom  he  had  reproved,  and  who  misquoted  his 
Verse  into  disparagement  of  ALI,  the  Darling  Imam  of 
Persia.  This,  getting  wind  at  Baghdad,  was  there 
brought  to  solemn  Tribunal.  Jami  came  victoriously 
off;  his  Accuser  was  pilloried  with  a  dockt  Beard  in 
Baghdad  Market-place  :  but  the  Poet  was  so  ill-pleased 
with  the  stupidity  of  those  who  had  believed  the 
Report,  that,  in  an  after  Poem,  he  called  for  a  Cup  of 
Wine  to  seal  up  Lips  of  whose  Utterance  the  Men  of 
Baghdad  were  unworthy. 

After  four  months'  stay  there,  during  which  he 
visited  at  Helleh  the  Tomb  of  Ali's  Son  Husein,  who 
had  fallen  at  Kerbela,  he  set  forth  again — to  Najaf, 
(where  he  says  his  Camel  sprang  forward  at  sight  of 
Ali's  own  Tomb) — crossed  the  Desert  in  twenty-two 
days,  continually  meditating  on  the  Prophet's  Glory,  to 
Medina ;  and  so  at  last  to  MECCA,  where,  as  he  sang  in 


102  NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE. 

a  Ghazal,  he  went  through  all  Mohammedan  Ceremony 
with  a  Mystical  Understanding  of  his  Own. 

He  then  turned  Homeward :  was  entertained  for 
forty-five  days  at  Damascus,  which  he  left  the  very 
Day  before  the  Turkish  Mohammad's  Envoys  came 
with  5000  Ducats  to  carry  him  to  Constantinople.  On 
arriving  at  Amida,  the  Capital  of  Mesopotamia,  he 
found  War  broken  out  and  in  full  Flame  between  that 
Sultan  and  Hasan  Beg,  King  of  the  Country,  who 
caused  Jami  to  be  honourably  escorted  through  the 
dangerous  Roads  to  Tabriz  ;  there  received  him  in  full 
Divan,  and  would  fain  have  him  abide  at  his  Court 
awhile.  Jami,  however,  was  intent  on  Home,  and  once 
more  seeing  his  aged  Mother  —  for  lie  was  turned  of 
Sixty  —  and  at  last  reached  Herat  in  the  Month  of 
Shaaban,  1473,  after  the  Average  Year's  Absence. 

This  is  the  HASAN,  "in  Name  and  Nature  Handsome" 
(and  so  described  by  some  Venetian  Ambassadors  of 
the  Time),  who  was  Father  of  YACUB  BEG,  to  whom 
Jami  dedicated  the  following  Poem  ;  and  who,  after 
the  due  murder  of  an  Elder  Brother,  succeeded  to  the 
Throne ;  till  aU  the  Dynasties  of  "  Black  and  White 
Sheep  "  together  were  swept  away  a  few  years  after  by 
Ismail,  Founder  of  the  Sofi  Dynasty  in  Persia. 

Arrived  at  home,  Jami  found  Husein  Mirza  Baikara, 
last  of  the  Timuridae,  seated  on  the  Throne  there,  and 
ready  to  receive  him  with  open  Arms.  Nizamuddin 
AH  Shir,  Husein's  Vizir,  a  Poet  too,  had  hailed  in  Verse 
the  Poet's  Advent  from  Damascus  as  ''The  Moon  rising 


NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE.  103 

in  the  West;"  and  they  both  continued  affectionately 
to  honour  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

Jami  sickened  of  his  mortal  Illness  on  the  13th  of 
Moharrem,  1492  —  a  Sunday.  His  Pulse  began  to  fail 
on  the  following  Friday,  after  the  Hour  of  Morning- 
Prayer,  and  stopped  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
Muezzin  began  to  call  to  Evening.  He  had  lived 
Eighty-one  Years.  Sultan  Husein  undertook  the 
pompous  Burial  of  one  whose  Glory  it  was  to  have 
lived  and  died  in  Dervish  Poverty;  the  Dignitaries  of 
the  Kingdom  followed  him  to  the  Grave ;  where  twenty 
days  afterward  was  recited  in  presence  of  the  Sultan 
and  his  Court  an  Eulogy  composed  by  the  Vizir,  who 
also  laid  the  first  Stone  of  a  Monument  to  his  Friend's 
Memory  —  the  first  Stone  of  "  Turbat-i  Jami,"  in  the 
Street  of  Meshhed,  a  principal  Thoro'fare  of  the  City 
of  Herat.  For,  says  Bosenzweig,  it  must  be  kept  in 
mind  that  Jami  was  reverenced  not  only  as  a  Poet  and 
Philosopher,  but  as  a  Saint  also ;  who  not  only  might 
work  a  Miracle  himself,  but  leave  such  a  Power  linger- 
ing about  his  Tomb.  It  was  known  that  an  Arab,  who 
had  falsely  accused  him  of  selling  a  Camel  he  knew  to 
be  unsound,  died  very  shortly  after,  as  Jami  had  pre- 
dicted, and  on  the  very  selfsame  spot  wrhere  the  Camel 
fell.  And  that  libellous  Bogue  at  Baghdad  —  he,  put- 
ting his  hand  into  his  Horse's  Nose-bag  to  see  if  the 
beast  had  finisht  his  Corn,  had  his  Forefinger  bitten 
off  by  the  same  —  from  which  "  Verstiimmlung  "  he 
soon  died  —  I  suppose,  as  he  ought,  of  Lock-jaw. 


104  NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE. 

The  Persians,  who  are  adepts  at  much  elegant  Inge- 
nuity, are  fond  of  commemorating  Events  by  some 
analogous  Word  or  Sentence  whose  Letters,  cabalisti- 
cally  corresponding  to  certain  Numbers,  compose  the 
Date  required.  In  Jami's  case  they  have  hit  upon  the 
word  "  KAS,"  A  Cup,  whose  signification  brings  his  own 
name  to  Memory,  and  whose  relative  letters  make  up 
his  81  years.  They  have  Tdrikhs  also  for  remember- 
ing the  Year  of  his  Death :  Rosenzweig  gives  some ; 
but  Ouseley  the  prettiest  of  all : — 

Dud  az  Khorasan  bar  amed  — 

"  The  smoke  "  of  Sighs  "  went  up  from  Khorasan." 

No  Biographer,  says  Rosenzweig  cautiously,  records 
of  Jami's  having  more  than  one  Wife  (Granddaughter 
of  his  Master  Sheikh)  and  Four  Sons  ;  which,  however, 
are  Five  too  many  for  the  Doctrine  of  this  Poem.  Of 
the  Sons,  Three  died  Infant ;  and  the  Fourth  (born  to 
him  in  very  old  Age),  and  for  whom  he  wrote  some 
Elementary  Tracts,  and  the  more  famous  ^Beharistan," 
lived  but  a  few  years,  and  was  remembered  by  his 
Father  in  the  Preface  to  his  Kliiradnama-i  Iskauder  — 
Alexander's  Wisdom-book  —  which  perhaps  had  also 
been  begun  for  the  Boy's  Instruction.  He  had  likewise 
a  nephew,  one  Maulaiia  Abdullah,  who  was  ambitious 
of  following  his  Uncle's  Footsteps  in  Poetry.  Jami 
first  dissuaded  him  5  then,  by  way  of  trial  whether  he 
had  a  Talent  as  well  as  a  Taste,  bade  him  imitate 
Firdusi's  Satire  on  Shah  Mahmud.  The  Nephew  did  so 


NOTICE    OF    JAMl'S    LIFE.  105 

well,  that  Jami  then  encouraged  him  to  proceed ;  himself 
wrote  the  first  Couplet  of  his  first  (and  most  celebrated) 
Poem  —  Laila  and  Majnun  — 

This  Book  of  which  the  Pen  has  now  laid  the  Foundation, 
May  the  diploma  of  Acceptance  one  day  befall  it, — 

and  Abdullah  went  on  to  write  that  and  four  other 
Poems  which  Persia  continues  to  delight  in  to  the 
present  day,  remembering  their  Author  under  his  Takh- 
allus  of  HATIFI  —  "  The  Voice  from  Heaven  "  —  the 
Last  of  the  classic  Poets  of  Persia. 

Of  Jami's  literary  Offspring,  Rosenzweig  numbers 
forty-four.  But  Shir  Khan  Ludi  in  his  "Memoirs  of 
the  Poets,"  says  Ouseley,  accounts  him  Author  of 
Ninety-nine  Volumes  of  Grammar,  Poetry,  and  Theol- 
ogy, which,  he  says,  "  continue  to  be  universally  ad- 
mired in  all  parts  of  the  Eastern  World,  Iran,  Turan, 
and  Hindustan" — copied,  some  of  them,  into  precious 
Manuscripts,  illuminated  with  Gold  and  Painting,  by 
the  greatest  Penmen  and  Artists  of  the  time  ;  one  such 
— the  "Beharistan" — said  to  have  cost  some  thousands 
of  pounds  —  autographed  as  their  own  by  two  Sover- 
eign Descendants  of  TIMUR  ;  and  now  reposited  away 
from  uthe  Drums  and  Tramplings"  of  Oriental  Con- 
quest in  the  tranquil  seclusion  of  an  English  library. 

With  us,  his  Name  is  almost  wholly  associated  with 
his  "Yusuf  and  Zulaikha;"  the  "Beharistan"  aforesaid: 
and  this  present  "  Salaman  and  Absal,"  which  he  tells 
us  is  like  to  be  the  last  product  of  his  Old  Age.  And 


of  ^£crr&&m&ns, 


SALAMA^    AXD    ABSAL. 


PRELIMINARY    INVOCATION. 

OH  Thou,  whose  Spirit  through  this  universe 
In  which  Thou  dost  involve  thyself  diffused, 
Shall  so  perchance  irradiate  human  clay 
That  men,  suddenly  dazzled,  lose  themselves 
In  ecstasy  before  a  mortal  shrine 
Whose  Light  is  but  a  Shade  of  the  Divine  ; 
Not  till  thy  Secret  Beauty  through  the  cheek 
Of  LAILA  smite  doth  she  inflame  MAJNUN  ;  ] 
And  not  till  Thou  have  kindled  SHIRIN'S  Eyes 
The  hearts  of  those  two  Rivals  swell  with  blood. 
For  Lov'd  and  Lover  are  not  but  by  Thee, 
Nor  Beauty;  —  mortal  Beauty  but  the  veil 
Thy  Heavenly  hides  behind,  and  from  itself 
Feeds,  and  our  hearts  yearn  after  as  a  Bride 

1  \Yell-known  Types  of  Eastern    Lovers.     SIU'RIN    and   her  Suitor 
figure  on  page  143. 


110  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

That  glances  past  us  veil'd  —  but  ever  so 

That  none  the  veil  from  what  it  hides  may  know. 

How  long  wilt  thou  continue  thus  the  World 

To  cozen1  with  the  fantom  of  a  veil 

From  which  thou  only  peepest  ?     I  would  be 

Thy  LoVer,  and  thine  only  —  I,  mine  eyes 

Seal'd  in  the  light  of  Thee  to  all  but  Thee, 

Yea,  in  the  revelation  of  Thyself 

Lost  to  Myself,  and  all  that  Self  is  not 

Within  the  Double  world  that  is  but  One. 

Thou  lurkest  under  all  the  forms  of  Thought, 

Under  the  form  of  all  Created  things  ; 

Look  where  I  may,  still  nothing  I  discern 

But  Thee  throughout  this  Universe,  wherein 

Thyself  Thou  dost  reflect,  and  through  those  eyes 

Of  him  whom  MAN  thou  madest,  scrutinise. 

To  thy  Harim  DivlDUALlTY 

No  entrance  finds  —  no  word  of  THIS  and  THAT  ; 

Do  Thou  my  separate  and  derived  Self 

Make  one  with  thy  Essential  !  Leave  me  room 

On  that  Divan  which  leaves  no  room  for  Twain  ; 

Lest,  like  the  simple  Arab  in  the  tale, 

I  grow  perplext,  oh  God!  'twixt  "  ME  "  and  "  TllKE;  " 

If/  —  this  Spirit  that  inspires  me  whence? 

If  77/or  —  then  what  this  sensual  Impotence  ? 

1  The  Persian   Mystics  also  represent  the  Deity  dicing  with  Human 
Destiny  behind  the  Curtain. 


725 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  Ill 

From  the  solitary  Desert 

Up  to  Baghdad  came  a  simple 

Arab ;  there  amid  the  rout 
Grew  bewildered  of  the  countless 
People,  hither,  thither,  running, 
Coming,  going,  meeting,  parting, 
Clamour,  clatter,  and  confusion, 

All  about  him  and  about. 
Travel- wearied,  hubbub-dizzy, 
Would  the  simple  Arab  fain 
Get  to  sleep — "But  then,  on  waking, 
"How"  quoth  he,  "amid  so  many 

"  Waking  know  Myself  again  ?  " 
So,  to  make  the  matter  certain, 
Strung  a  gourd  about  his  ancle. 
And,  into  a  corner  creeping, 
Baghdad  and  Himself  and  People 

Soon  were  blotted  from  his  brain. 
But  one  that  heard  him  and  divin'd 
His  purpose,  slily  crept  behind; 
From  the  Sleeper's  ancle  slipping, 

Round  his  own  the  pumpkin  tied, 

And  laid  him  do^vn  to  sleep  beside. 
By  and  by  the  Arab  waking 
Looks  directly  for  his  Signal  — 
Sees  it  on  another's  Ancle  — 
Cries  aloud,  "Oh  Good-for-nothing 


112  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"Rascal  to  perplex  me  so  .' 

"That  by  you  I  am  bewildered, 

"  Whether  I  be  I  or  no  ! 

"If  I  —  the  Pumpkin  why  on  You  ? 

"If  You  —  then  Where  am  7,  and  WHO  ?  " 


AND  yet,  how  long,  O  Jami,  stringing  Verse, 

Pearl  after  pearl,  on  that  old  Harp  of  thine  ? 

Year  after  year  attuning  some  new  Song, 

The  breath  of  some  old  Story?1      Life  is  gone, 

And  that  last  song  is  not  the  last ;   my  Soul 

Is  spent  —  and  still  a  Story  to  be  told  ! 

And  I,  whose  back  is  crooked  as  the  Harp 

I  still  keep  tuning  through  the  Night  till  Day  ! 

That  Harp  untun'd  by  Time  —  the  harper's  hand 

Shaking  with  Age  —  how  shall  the  harper's  hand 

Repair  its  cunning,  and  the  sweet  old  harp 

Be  modulated  as  of  old  ?     Methinks 

'Twere  time  to  break  and  cast  it  in  the  fire ; 

The  vain  old  harp,  that,  breathing  from  its  strings 

No  music  more  to  charm  the  ears  of  men, 

May,  from  its  scented  ashes,  as  it  burns, 

Breathe  resignation  to  the  Harper's  soul, 

Now  that  his  body  looks  to  dissolution. 

My  teeth  fall  out  —  my  two  eyes  see  no  more 

1  "  Yusuf and  Zulaikha,"  "  Laila  and  Majmin,"  &c. 


& 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  113 

Till  by  Feringhi  glasses  turn'd  to  four;1 
Pain  sits  with  me  sitting  behind  my  knees, 
From  which  I  hardly  rise  unhelpt  of  hand ; 
I  bow  down  to  my  root,  and  like  a  Child 
Yearn  as  is  likely,  to  my  Mother  Earth, 
Upon  whose  bosom,  I  shall  cease  to  weep, 
And  on  my  Mother's  bosom  fall  asleep.2 

The  House  in  ruin,  and  its  music  heard 

No  more  within,  nor  at  the  door  of  speech, 

Better  in  silence  and  oblivion 

To  fold  me  head  and  foot,  remembering 

What  THE  VOICE  whisper'd  in  the  Master's8  ear  — 

"  No  longer  think  of  Rhyme,  but  think  of  ME  !  " — 

Of  WHOM  ? —  Of  HIM  whose  Palace  the  SOUL  is. 

And  Treasure-house  —  who  notices  and  knows 

Its  income  and  out-going,  and  then  comes 

To  fill  it  when  the  Stranger  is  departed. 

Yea;  but  whose  Shadow  being  Earthly  Kings, 

Their  Attributes,  their  Wrath  and  Favour,  His, — 

Lo  !   in  the  meditation  of  His  glory, 

The  SHAH4  whose  subject  upon  Earth  I  am, 

As  he  of  Heaven's,  comes  on  me  unaware, 

l  First  notice  of  Spectacles  in  Oriental  Poetry,  perhaps. 

y  The  same  Figure  is  found  in  Chaucer's  "Pardoner's  Tale,"  and,  I 
think,  in  other  Western  poems  of  that  era. 

:i  Jelaluddin  —  Author  of  the  "  Mesnavi." 

4  YAKUB  BEG  :  to  whose  protection  Jami  owed  a  Song  of  gratitude. 


A 

'TV 


114  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

And  suddenly  arrests  me  for  his  due. 
Therefore  for  one  last  travel,  and  as  brief 
As  may  become  the  feeble  breath  of  Age, 
My  weary  pen  once  more  drinks  of  the  well, 
Whence,  of  the  Mortal  writing,  I  may  read 
Anticipation  of  the  Invisible. 


One  who  travel 'd  in  the  Desert 
Saw  MAJNUN  where  he  was  sitting 
All  alone  like  a  Magician 

Tracing  Letters  in  the  sand. 
"Oh  distracted  Lover  !  writing 
"  What  the  Sword-wind  of  the  Desert 
"UndecipJicrs  so'  that  no  one 

"After you  shall  understand.'" 
MAJNUN  answered —  "I  am  writing 
"Only  for  myself,  and  only 
"  '  LAILA,' — If  for  ever  '  LAILA ' 
"  Writing  in  that  Word  a  Volume, 
"Over  wl licit  for  ever  poring, 
"From  her  very  Name  I  sip 
"In  Fancy,  till  I  drink,  her  Lip." 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  115 

THE    STORY. 
PART  I. 

A  SHAH  there  was  who  ruled  the  realm  of  Yun,1 

And  wore  the  Ring  of  Empire  of  Sikander  ; 

And  in  his  reign  A  SAGE,  of  such  report 

For  Insight  reaching  quite  beyond  the  Veil, 

That  Wise  men  from  all  quarters  of  the  World, 

To  catch  the  jewel  falling  from  his  lips 

Out  of  the  secret  treasure  as  he  went, 

Went  in  a  girdle  round  him. — Which  the  SHAH 

Observing,  took  him  to  his  secrecy ; 

Stirr'd  not  a  step,  nor  set  design  afoot, 

Without  the  Prophet's  sanction  ;  till,  so  counsel'd, 

From  Kaf  to  Kaf2  reach'd  his  Dominion: 

No  People,  and  no  Prince  that  over  them 

The  ring  of  Empire  wore,  but  under  his 

Bow'd  down  in  Battle  ;  rising  then  in  Peace 

Under  his  Justice  grew,  secure  from  wrong, 

And  in  their  strength  was  his  Dominion  strong. 

The  SHAH  that  has  not  Wisdom  in  himself, 

Nor  has  a  Wise  one  for  his  Counsellor. 

l  Or  "  YAVAX,"  Son  of  Japhet,  from  whom  the  Country  was  called 
"  YUXAX," — IOXIA,  meant  by  the  Persians  to  express  GREECE  gen- 
erally. Sikander  is,  of  course,  Alexander  the  Great. 

-  The  Fabulous  Mountain  supposed  by  Asiatics  to  surround  the 
World,  binding  the  Horizon  on  all  sides. 


116  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

The  wand  of  his  Authority  falls  short, 
And  his  Dominion  crumbles  at  the  base. 
For  he,  discerning  not  the  characters 
Of  Tyranny  and  Justice,  confounds  both, 
Making  the  World  a  desert,  and  Redress 
A  fantom-water  of  the  Wilderness. 


God  said  to  the  Prophet  David  — 
''David,  whom  I  have  exalted 
''From  the  sheep  to  be  my  People 's 

"Shepherd,  by  your  Justice  my 

''Revelation  justify. 
"Lest  the  misbelieving — yea, 
"The  Fire -adoring,  Princes  rather 
"Be  my  Prophets,  vv ho  fulfill, 
"Knowing  not  my  Word,  my  WILL." 


ONE  night  the  SHAH  of  Yiinan  as  he  sate 
Contemplating  his  measureless  extent 
Of  Empire,  and  the  glory  wherewithal, 
As  with  a  garment  robed,  he  ruled  alone  ; 
Then  found  he  nothing  wanted  to  his  heart 
Unless  a  Son,  who,  while  he  lived,  might  share, 
And,  after  him,  his  robe  of  Empire  wear. 
And  then  he  turned  him  to  THE  SAGE,  and  said: 


SALAMAX     AND     ABSAL.  117 

"  O  Darling  of  the  soul  of  IFLATUN  ; l 

"  To  whom  with  all  his  school  ARISTO  bows  ; 

"  Yea,  thou  that  an  ELEVENTH  to  the  TEN 

"  INTELLIGENCES  addest:  Thou  hast  read 

"The  yet  unutter'd  secret  of  my  Heart, 

"  Answer —  Of  all  that  man  desires  of  God 

"  Is  any  blessing  greater  than  a  Son  ? 

"  Man's  prime  Desire  :   by  whom  his  name  and  he 

"  Shall  live  beyond  himself;   by  whom  his  eyes 

"  Shine  living,  and  his  dust  with  roses  blows. 

"  A  Foot  for  thee  to  stand  on,  and  an  Arm 

"  To  lean  by  ;   sharp  in  battle  as  a  sword  ; 

"  Salt  of  the  banquet-table;   and  a  tower 

"  Of  salutary  counsel  in  Divan  ; 

"  One  in  whose  youth  a  Father  shall  prolong 

"  His  years,  and  in  his  strength  continue  strong." 

When    the   shrewd    SAGE    had    heard    THE    SHAH'S 

discourse 

In  commendation  of  a  Son,  he  said  : 
"Thus  much  of  a  Good  Son,  whose  wholesome  growth 
"Approves  the  root  he  grew  from.      But  for  one 
"  Kneaded  of  Ei<il —  well,  could  one  revoke 
"  His  generation,  and  as  early  pull 
"  Him  and  his  vices  from  the  string  of  Time. 

1  Iflatun,  Plato;  Aristo,  Aristotle:   both  renowned  in  the  East  to  this 
Day.      For  the  Ten  Intelligences,  see  Appendix. 


A 

:?K 


118  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"  Like  Noah's,  pufif'd  with  insolence  and  pride, 
"  Who,  reckless  of  his  Father's  warning  call, 
"  Was  by  the  voice  of  ALLAH  from  the  door 
"  Of  refuge  in  his  Father's  ark  debarr'd, 
"  And  perish'd  in  the  Deluge.1     And  as  none 

"  Who  long  for  children  may  their  children  choose, 
"  Beware  of  teasing  Allah  for  a  Son, 

"Whom  having,  you  may  have  to  pray  to  lose." 


Sick  at  heart  for  want  of  Children, 
Ran  before  the  Saint  a  Fellow, 
Catching  at  his  garment,  crying, 

"Master,  hear  and  help  me  !     Pray 

"That  ALLAH  /hwz  the  barren  clay 
^  Raise  me  up  a  frcsli  young  Cypress, 
"  Who  my  longing  eyes  may  lighten, 
"And  not  let  me  like  a  vapour 

'  '  Unrcmembercd  pass  away. 
But  the  Dervish  said  —  "Consider; 

"  Wisely  let  the  matter  rest 
"In  the  hands  of  ALLAH  wholly, 
"  Who,  whatever  we  arc  after, 

"Understands  our  business  best." 
Still  the  man  persisted  —  "Master, 
"I  shall  perish  in  my  longing  : 

1  See  Note  in  Appendix,  p.  158. 


? 


V 

SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  119 

"Help,  and  set  My  prayer  a-going  !  " 

Then  the  Dervish  rais'd  his  hand  — 

From  the  mystic  Hunting- land 
Of  Darkness  to  Hie  Father's  arms 

A  musky  Fawn  of  China  drew  — 
A  Boy  —  who ,  when  the  shoot  of  Passion 

In  his  Nature  planted  grew, 
Took  to  drinking,  dicing,  drabbing. 
From  a  corner  of  the  house -top 
Ill-insulting  honest  women, 
Dagger-drawing  on  the  husband  ; 

And  for  many  a  city -brawl 
Still  before  the  Cadi  summoned, 

Still  the  Father  pays  for  all. 
Day  and  Night  the  youngster's  doings 
Such  —  the  city 's  talk  and  scandal ; 
Neither  counsel,  threat,  entreaty, 
Moved  him  —  till  the  desperate  Father 
Once  more  to  the  Dervish  running, 
CatcJies  at  his  garment  —  crying  — 
"  Oh  my  only  Hope  and  Helper  ! 
"One  more  Prayer  !      That  God,  ivho  laid, 
"  Would  take  this  trouble  from  my  head  !  " 
But  the  Saint  replied — "Remember 
"How  that  very  Day  I  warn 'd you 
'•'•Not  with  blind  petition  ALLAH 
"Trouble  to  your  oivn  confusion  ; 


120 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"Unto  whom  remains  no  more 
"To  pray  for,  save  that  He  may  pardon 
"  What  so  rashly  prayed  before." 


"  So  much  for  the  result;  and  for  the  means  — 

"  Oh  SHAH,  who  would  not  be  himself  a  slave, 

"  Which  SHAH  least  should,  and  of  an  appetite 

"  Among  the  basest  of  his  slaves  enslav'd  — 

"  Better  let  Azrael  find  him  on  his  throne 

"  Of  Empire  sitting  childless  and  alone, 

"Than  his  untainted  Majesty  resign 

"  To  that  seditious  drink,  of  which  one  draught 

"  Still  for  another  and  another  craves, 

"  Till  it  become  a  noose  to  draw  the  Crown 

"  fi'em  off  thy  brows  —  about  thy  lips  a  ring, 

"  Of  which  the  rope  is  in  a  Woman's  hand, 

"  To  lead  thyself  the  road  of  Nothing  down. 

"  For  what  is  She  ?     A  foolish,  faithless  thing  — 

"  A  very  Kafir  in  rapacity ; 

"  Robe  her  in  all  the  rainbow-tinted  woof 

"  Of  Susa,  shot  with  rays  of  sunny  Gold  ; 

"  Deck  her  with  jewel  thick  as  Night  with  star ; 

"  Pamper  her  appetite  with  Houri  fruit 

"  Of  Paradise,  and  fill  her  jewell'd  cup 

"  From  the  green-mantled  Prophet's  Well  of  Life^ 

"  One  little  twist  of  temper  —  all  your  cost 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"  Goes  all  for  nothing:  and,  as  for  yourself — 
"  Look  !  On  your  bosom  she  may  lie  for  years ; 

"  But,  get  you  gone  a  moment  out  of  sight, 
"And  she  forgets  you  —  worse,  if,  as  you  turn, 

"  Her  eyes  on  any  younger  Lover  light." 


121 


Once  upon  the  Throne  together 

Telling  one  another  Secrets, 

Sate  SULAYMAN  and  BALKIS  j1 

The  Hearts  of  both  were  turn'd  to  Truth, 

Unsullied  by  Deception. 

First  the  King  of  Faith  SULAYMAN 

Spoke  —  " However  just  and  wise 
"Reported^  none  of  all  the  many 
'•'•Suitors  to  my  palace  thronging 

"But  afar  I  scrutinise  ; 
"And  He  who  comes  not  empty-handed 

"Grows  to  Honoiir  in  mine  Eyes." 
After  this,  BALKIS  a  Secret 
From  her  hidden  bosom  utter 'a7, 
Saying —  "Never  nigJit  or  morning 
''•Comely  Youth  before  me  passes 
"  Whom  I  look  not  after,  longing  " — 

"  If  this,  as  wise  Firdusi  says,  the  curse 

"  Of  better  woman,  what  then  of  the  worse  ?  " 

1  Solomon  and  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  who,  it  appears,  is  no  worse  in 
one  way  than  Solomon  in  another,  unless  in  Oriental  Eyes. 


122  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

THE  SAGE  his  satire  ended ;  and  THE  SHAH, 
Determin'd  on  his  purpose,  but  the  means 
Resigning  to  Supreme  Intelligence, 
With  Magic-mighty  Wisdom  his  own  WILL 
Colleagued,  and  wrought  his  own  accomplishment. 
For  Lo  !  from  Darkness  came  to  Light  A  CHILD, 
Of  carnal  composition  unattaint; 
A  Perfume  from  the  realm  of  Wisdom  wafted  ; 
A  Rosebud  blowing  on  the  Royal  stem ; 
The  crowning  Jewel  of  the  Crown  ;  a  Star 
Under  whose  augury  triumph'd  the  Throne. 
For  whom  dividing,  and  again  in  one 
Whole  perfect  Jewel  re-uniting,  those 
Twin  Jewel-words  SALAMAT  and  AsMAN,1 
They  hail'd  him  by  the  title  of  SALAMAN. 
And  whereas  from  no  Mother  milk  he  drew, 
They  chose  for  him  a  Nurse — her  name  ABSAL  — 
So  young,  the  opening  roses  of  her  breast  • 
But  just  had  budded  to  an  infant's  lip ; 
So  beautiful,  as  from  the  silver  line 
Dividing  the  musk-harvest  of  her  hair 
Down  to  her  foot  that  trampled  crowns  of  Kings, 
A  Moon  of  beauty  full ;   who  thus  elect 
Should  in  the  garment  of  her  bounty  fold 
SALAMAN  of  auspicious  augury, 
Should  feed  him  with  the  flowing  of  her  breast. 
1  SALAMAT,  Security  from  Evil;  ASMAN,  Heaven. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  123 

And,  once  her  eyes  had  open'd  upon  Him, 
They  closed  to  all  the  world  beside,  and  fed 
For  ever  doating  on  her  Royal  jewel 
Close  in  his  golden  cradle  casketed  : 
Opening  and  closing  which  her  day's  delight, 
To  gaze  upon  his  heart-inflaming  cheek, — 
Upon  the  Babe  whom,  if  she  could,  she  would 
Have  cradled  as  the  Baby  of  her  eye.1 
In  rose  and  musk  she  wash'd  him  —  to  his  lip 
Press'd  the  pure  sugar  from  the  honeycomb  ; 
And  when,  day  over,  she  withdrew  her  milk, 
She  made,  and  having  laid  him  in,  his  bed, 
Burn'd  all  night  like  a  taper  o'er  his  head. 

And  still  as  Morning  came,  and  as  he  grew, 

Finer  than  any  bridal-puppet,  which 

To  prove  another's  love  a  woman  sends," 

She  trick'd  him  up  —  with  fresh  Collyrium  dew 

Touch'd  his  narcissus  eyes  —  the  musky  locks 

Divided  from  his  forehead  —  and  embraced 

With  gold  and  ruby  girdle  his  fine  waist. 

So  for  seven  years  she  rear'd  and  tended  him  : 
Nay,  when  his  still-increasing  moon  of  Youth 
Into  the  further  Sign  of  Manhood  pass'd 
Pursued  him  yet,  till  full  fourteen  his  years, 

1  Literally,  Mardumak  —  the  Mannikin,  or  Pupil,  of  the  Eye,  corre- 
sponding to  the  Image  so  frequently  used  by  our  old  Poets. 

2  See  Appendix. 


124  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Fourteen-day  full  the  beauty  of  his  face, 
That  rode  high  in  a  hundred  thousand  hearts. 
For,  when  SALAMAN  was  but  half-lance  high, 
Lance-like  he  struck  a  wound  in  every  one 
And  shook  down  splendour  round  him  like  a  Sun. 


SOON  as  the  Lord  of  Heav'n  had  sprung  his  horse 

Over  horizon  into  the  blue  field, 

SALAMAN  kindled  with  the  wine  of  sleep, 

Mounted  a  barb  of  fire  for  the  Maidan  ; 

He  and  a  troop  of  Princes  —  Kings  in  blood, 

Kings  in  the  kingdom-troubling  tribe  of  beauty, 

All  young  in  years  and  courage,1  bat  in  hand 

Gallop'd  a-field,  toss'd  down  the  golden  ball 

And  chased,  so  many  crescent  Moons  a  full ; 

And,  all  alike  intent  upon  the  Game,2 

SALAMAN  still  would  carry  from  them  all 

The  prize,  and  shouting  "  Hal !  "  drive  home  the  ball- 

This  done,  SALAMAN  bent  him  as  a  bow 
To  Archery  —  from  Masters  of  the  craft 
Call'd  for  an  unstrung  bow  —  himself  the  cord 
Fitted  unhclpt/'*  and  nimbly  with  his  hand 

1  The  same  Persian  Word  signifying  Youth  and  Courage. 

2  See  Appendix. 

3  Bows  being  so  gradually  stiffened,  according  to  the  age  and  strength 
of  the  Archer,  as  at  last  to  need  five   Hundred-weight  of  pressure  to 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  125 

Twanging  made  cry,  and  drew  it  to  his  ear : 
Then,  fixing  the  three-feather'd  fowl,  discharged  : 
And  whether  aiming  at  the  fawn  a-foot. 
Or  bird  on  wing,  direct  his  arrow  flew, 
Like  the  true  Soul  that  cannot  but  go  true. 


WHEN  night  came,  that  releases  man  from  toil. 

He  play'd  the  chess  of  social  intercourse  ; 

Prepared  his  banquet-hall  like  Paradise, 

Summon'd  his  Houri-faced  musicians. 

And,  when  his  brain  grew  warm  with  wine,  the  veil 

Flung  off  him  of  reserve  :   taking  a  harp, 

Between  its  dry  string  and  his  finger  quick 

Struck  fire :   or  catching  up  a  lute,  as  if 

A  child  for  chastisement,  would  pinch  its  ear 

To  wailing  that  should  aged  eyes  make  weep. 

Now  like  the  Nightingale  he  sang  alone  ; 

Now  with  another  lip  to  lip  ;   and  now 

Together  blending  voice  and  instrument ; 

And  thus  with  his  associates  night  he  spent. 

His  Soul  rejoiced  in  knowledge  of  all  kind  ; 
The  fine  edge  of  his  Wit  would  split  a  hair, 

bend,  says  an  old  Translation  of  Chardin,  \vho  describes  all  the  process 
up  to  bringing  up  the  string  to  the  ear,  "  as  if  to  hang  it  there  ''  before 
shooting.  Then  the  first  trial  was,  who  could  shoot  highest  :  then,  the 
mark,  &c. 


126  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

And  in  the  noose  of  apprehension  catch 
A  meaning  ere  articulate  in  word  ; 
Close  as  the  knitted  jewel  of  Parwin 
His  jewel  Verse  he  strung  ;  his  Rhetoric 
Enlarging  like  the  Mourners  of  the  Bier.1 
And  when  he  took  the  nimble  reed  in  hand 
To  run  the  errand  of  his  Thought  along 
Its  paper  field  —  the  character  he  traced, 
Fine  on  the  lip  of  Youth  as  the  first  hair, 
Drove  Penmen,  as  that  Lovers,  to  despair. 

His  Bounty  like  a  Sea  was  fathomless 
That  bubbled  up  with  jewel,  and  flung  pearl 
Where'er  it  touch'd,  but  drew  not  back  again 
It  was  a  Heav'n  that  rain'd  on  all  below 
Dirhems  for  drops  — 


BUT  here  that  inward  Voice 
Arrested  and  rebuked  me  —  "  Foolish  Jami ! 
"  Wearing  that  indefatigable  pen 
"  In  celebration  of  an  alien  SHAH 
"  Whose  Throne,  not  grounded  in  the  Eternal  World, 
"  If  YESTERDAY  it  were,  TO-DAY  is  not, 

1  The  Pleiades  and  the  Great  Hear.  This  is  otherwise  prettily 
applied  in  the  Anvar-i  Soheili — "When  one  grows  poor,  his  Friends, 
heretofore  compact  as  THE  PLEIADES,  disperse  wide  asunder  as  THE 
MOURNERS." 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 


127 


"  TO-MORROW  cannot  be."1      But  I  replied  : 

"  O  Fount  of  Light !  —  under  an  alien  name 

"  I  shadow  One  upon  whose  head  the  Crown 

"  WAS  and  yet  Is,  and  SHALL  BE  ;  whose  Firman 

"  The  Kingdoms  Sev'n  of  this  World,  and  the  Seas, 

"  And  the  Sev'n  Heavens,  alike  are  subject  to. 

"  Good  luck  to  him  who  under  other  Name 

"  Instructed  us  that  Glory  to  disguise 

"  To  which  the  Initiate  scarce  dare  lift  his  eyes." 


Sate  a  Lover  in  a  Garden 

All  alone  apostrophising 

Many  a  flower  and  shrub  about  him, 

And  the  lights  of  Heavn  above. 
Nightingaling  tJius,  a  Noodle 
Heard  him,  and,  completely  puzzled, 
"What,"  quotJi  he,  "  and  yon  a  Lover, 
"Raving,  not  about  your  Mistress, 
"But  about  the  stars  and  roses  — 

' '  What  have  these  to  do  with  Love  ?  ' ' 
Answered  he :  "Oh  thou  that  aimest 
"  Wide  of  Love,  and  Lovers'  language 

"  Wholly  misinterpreting; 

1  The  Hero  of  the  Story  being  of  YU.NAN  —  IOMA,  or  GREECE 
generally  (the  Persian  Geography  not  being  very  precise) — and  so  not 
of  THE  FAITH. 


.128  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"Sun  and  Moon  are  but  my  Lady  s 
"Self,  as  any  Lover  knows  ; 

"Hyacinth  I  said,  and  meant  her 

"Hair — her  cheek  was  in  the  rose  — 

"And  I  myself  the  wretched  weed 

"That  in  her  cypress  shadow  grows." 


AND  now  the  cypress  stature  of  Salaman 

Had  reached  his  top,  and  now  to  blossom  full 

The  garden  of  his  Beauty  ;  and  Absal, 

Fairest  of  hers,  as  of  his  fellows  he 

The  fairest,  long'd  to  gather  from  the  tree. 

But,  for  that  flower  upon  the  lofty  stem 

Of  Glory  grew  to  which  her  hand  fell  short, 

She  now  with  woman's  sorcery  began 

To  conjure  as  she  might  within  her  reach. 

The  darkness  of  her  eyes  she  darken'd  round 

With  surma,  to  benight  him  in  mid  day, 

And  over  them  adorn'd  and  arch'd  the  bows1 

To  wound  him  there  when  lost :  her  musky  locks 

Into  so  many  snaky  ringlets  curl'd 

In  which  Temptation  nestled  o'er  the  cheek 

Whose  rose  she  kindled  with  vermilion  dew, 

And  then  one  subtle  grain  of  musk  laid  there,2 

1  With  dark  Indigo-paint,  as  the  Archery  Bow  with  a  thin   Papyrus- 
like  Bark. 

-  A  Patch,  sc. — "Noir comme  le  Muse."     I)e  Sacy. 

vv 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

The  bird  of  that  beloved  heart  to  snare. 
Sometimes  in  passing  with  a  laugh  would  break 
The  pearl-enclosing  ruby  of  her  lips  ; 
Or,  busied  in  the  room,  as  by  mischance 
Would  let  the  lifted  sleeve  disclose  awhile 
The  vein  of  silver  running  up  within  : 
Or,  rising  as  in  haste,  her  golden  anklets 
Clash,  at  whose  sudden  summons  to  bring  down 
Under  her  silver  feet  the  golden  Crown. 
Thus,  by  innumerable  witcheries, 
She  went  about  soliciting  his  eyes, 
Through  which  she  knew  the  robber  unaware 
Steals  in,  and  takes  the  bosom  by  surprise. 


129 


Burning  ivitJi  her  love  ZlJLAIKHA 
Built  a  chamber,  ivall  and  ceiling 
Blank  as  an  untarnisht  mirror, 
Spotless  as  tJie  heart  of  Yi'SUF. 
Then  she  made  a  cunning  painter 
Multiply  her  image  round  it ; 
Not  an  inch  of  wall  or  ceiling 
But  re-echoing  her  beauty. 
TJien  amid  them  all  in  all  her 
Glory  sate  she  down,  and  sent  for 
YUSUF  —  she  began  a  tale 
Of  Love  —  and  lifted  up  her  veil. 


130  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Bashfully  beneath  her  burning 

Eyes  he  turned  away ;  but  turning 

Wheresoever^  still  about  him 

Saw  ZULAIKHA,  j//// ZULAIKHA, 

Still,  without  a  veil,  ZULAIKHA. 

But  a  Voice  as  if  from  Canaan 

Calf  d  him;  and  a  Hand  from  Darkness 

Touch d ;  and  ere  a  living  Lip 
Through  the  mirage  of  bewilder  d 
Eyes  seduced  him,  he  recoiled, 

A  nd  let  the  skirt  of  danger  slip. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  131 


PART   II. 

ALAS  for  those  who  having  tasted  once 

Of  that  forbidden  vintage  of  the  lips 

That,  press'd  and  pressing,  from  each  other  draw 

The  draught  that  so  intoxicates  them  both, 

That,  while  upon  the  wings  of  Day  and  Night 

Time  rustles  on,  and  Moons  do  wax  and  wane, 

As  from  the  very  Well  of  Life  they  drink, 

And,  drinking,  fancy  they  shall  never  drain. 

But  rolling  Heaven  from  his  ambush  whispers, 

"  So  in  my  licence  is  it  not  set  down  : 

"  Ah  for  the  sweet  societies  I  make 

"  At  Morning,  and  before  the  Nightfall  break  ; 

"  Ah  for  the  bliss  that  coming  Night  fills  up, 

"  And  Morn  looks  in  to  find  an  empty  Cup  ! " 


Once  in  Baghdad  a  poor  Arab, 
After  ^<.vcary  days  of  fasting, 
Into  the  Khalifatis  banquet  - 
Chamber,  where,  aloft  in  State 
HA  RUN  the  Great  at  supper  sate, 

Pushed  and  pushing  li'ith  the  throng, 
Got  before  a  perfume  breathing 
Pasty,  like  the  lip  tf/SHlRlN 

Luscious,  or  the  Pocf  s  song. 


132  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Soon  as  seen,  the  f amis /it  clown 
Seises  up  and  swalloivs  doivn. 
Then  his  month  undaunted  wiping  — 
"Oh  Khalifah,  hear  me  swear, 
"  While  I  breathe  the  dust  of  Baghdad, 
"Ne'er  at  any  other  Table 
"Than  at  Thine  to  sup  or  dine.''1 
Grimly  laugh' d  HARUN,  and  answer* d : 
"Fool !  who  think 'st  to  arbitrate 
' '  What  is  in  the  hands  of  fate  — 
l'Takc,  and  thrust  him  from  the  Gate  / 


WHILE  a  full  Year  was  counted  by  the  Moon, 
SALAMAN  and  ABSAL  rejoiced  together, 
And  neither  SHAH  nor  SAGE  his  face  beheld. 
They  question'd  those  about  him,  and  from  them 
Heard  something:  then  himself  to  presence  summon'd, 
And  all  the  truth  was  told.      Then  SAGE  and  SHAH 
Struck  out  with  hand  and  foot  in  his  redress. 
And  first  with  REASON,  which  is  also  best  ; 
REASON  that  rights  the  wanderer  ;   that  completes 
The  imperfect  —  REASON  that  resolves  the  knot 
Of  either  world,  and  sees  beyond  the  Veil. 
For  REASON  is  the  fountain  from  of  old 
From  which  the  Prophets  drew,  and  none  beside  : 
Who  boasts  of  other  Inspiration,  lies  — 
There  are  no  other  Prophets  than  THE  WISE. 


& 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  133 

AND  first  THE  SHAH  : — "  SALAMAN,  Oh  my  Soul, 

"Light  of  the  eyes  of  my  Prosperity, 

"  And  making  bloom  the  court  of  Hope  with  rose  ; 

"  Year  after  year,  SALAMAN,  like  a  bud 

"That  cannot  blow,  my  own  blood  I  devour'd, 

"  Till,  by  the  seasonable  breath  of  God, 

"  At  last  I  blossom'd  into  thee,  my  Son  ; 

"  Oh,  do  not  wound  me  with  a  dagger  thorn  ; 

"  Let  not  the  full-blown  rose  of  Royalty 

"  Be  left  to  wither  in  a  hand  unclean. 

"  For  what  thy  proper  pastime  ?     Bat  in  hand 

"To  mount  and  manage  RAKHSH1  along  the  Field; 

"  Not,  with  no  weapon  but  a  wanton  curl 

"  Idly  reposing  on  a  silver  breast. 

"  Go,  fly  thine  arrow  at  the  antelope 

"And  lion  —  let  me  not  My  lion  see 

"Slain  by  the  arrow  eyes  of  a  ghazal. 

"  Go,  challenge  ZAL  or  RUSTAM  to  the  Field, 

"  And  smite  the  warriors'  neck  ;   not  flying  them, 

"  Beneath  a  woman's  foot  submit  thine  own. 

"  O  wipe  the  woman's  henna  from  thy  hand, 

"  Withdraw  thee  from  the  minion'-'  who  from  thee 

"  Dominion  draws,  and  draws  me  with  thee  down  ; 

"Years  have  I  held  my  head  aloft,  and  all 

"  For  Thee  —  Oh  shame  if  thou  prepare  my  Fall  !  " 

1  "  LIGHTNING."      The  name  of  RUSTAM'S  famous   Horse  in   the 
SnAn-XAMAH. 

2  "  SHAH,"  and  "  SHAHID  "  (A  Mistress). 


as 


134  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

When  before  SHIRUYEH'S  dagger 

KAI  KHUSRAU,1  his  Father,  fell, 
He  declared  this  Parable  — 

"  Wretch  !  —  There  was  a  branch  that  waxing 

"  Wanton  o'er  the  root  he  drank  from, 

"At  a  draught  the  living  water 

"Drain  d  w>  herewith  himself  to  crown; 

"Died  the  root  —  and  with  him  died 

"The    branch  —  and    barren    was    brought 
down  !  " 


THE  SHAH  ceased  counsel,  and  THE  SAGE  began. 

"  O  last  new  vintage  of  the  Vine  of  Life 

"  Planted  in  Paradise  ;    Oh  Master-stroke, 

"  And  all-concluding  flourish  of  the  Pen 

"  KUN  FA-YAKUN  ;2  Thyself  prime  Archetype, 

"  And  ultimate  Accomplishment  of  MAN  ! 

"The  Almighty  hand,  that  out  of  common  earth 

"  Thy  mortal  outward   to  the  perfect  form 

"  Of  Beauty  moulded,  in  the  fleeting  dust 

"  Inscrib'd  HIMSELF,  and  in  thy  bosom  set 

1  KHUSRAU  PARVIZ  (Chosroe  The  Victorious),  Son  of  XOSHIRAVAN 
The  Great ;   slain,  after  Thirty  Years  of  prosperous   Reign,  by  his  Son 
SHIRUYKH,  \\-ho,  according  to   some,  was    in   love  with   his    Father's 
mistress  SHI'RIN.     See  further  on  one  of  the  most  dramatic  Tragedies 
in  Persian  history. 

2  "BE!   AND   IT   is." — The   famous    Word   of  Creation    stolen   from 
Genesis  by  the  Kuran. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  135 

"  A  mirror  to  reflect  HIMSELF  in  Thee. 

"  Let  not  that  dust  by  rebel  passion  blown 

"  Obliterate  that  character  :  nor  let 

"  That  Mirror,  sullied  by  the  breath  impure, 

"  Or  form  of  carnal  beauty  fore-possest, 

"  Be  made  incapable  of  the  Divine. 

"  Supreme  is  thine  Original  degree, 

"  Thy  Star  upon  the  top  of  Heaven  ;  but  Lust 

"  Will  bring  it  down,  down  even  to  the  Dust  !  " 


Quoth  a  Muezzin  to  the  crested 
Cock —  "Oh  Prophet  of  the  Morning, 

"Never  Prophet  like  to  you 
"Prophesied  of  Dazvn,  nor  Muezzin 

"  With  so  shrill  a  voice  of  warning 

> 
"  Woke  the  sleeper  to  confession 

"Crying,  '  LA  ALLAH  ILLA  'LLAH, 

"  MUHAMMAD  RASULUnu.'1 
"One,  incthiuks,  so  rarely  gifted 

"Should  have  prophesied  and  sung 
"In  Heavn,  the  Bird  of  Heaven  among, 
"Not  with  these  poor  hens  about  him, 

"Raking  in  a  heap  of  dung." 
"And,"  replied  the  Cock,  "  in  Heaven 
"Once  I  was ;  but  by  my  foolish 

1  "There  is  no  God  but  God ;   Muhammad  is  his  Prophet." 


136  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"Lust  to  this  uncleanly  living 
' '  With  my  sorry  mates  abont  me 

"Thus  am  fallen.      Othenvise, 
' '/  were  prophesying'  Dawn 

"Before  the  gates  of  Paradise." 


OF  all  the  Lover's  sorrows,  next  to  that 
Of  Love  by  Love  Forbidden,  is  the  voice 
Of  Friendship  turning  harsh  in  Love's  reproof, 
And  overmuch  of  Counsel  —  whereby  Love 
Grows  stubborn,  and  recoiling  unsupprest 
Within,  devours  the  heart  within  the  breast. 

SALAMAN  heard  ;   his  Soul  came  to  his  lips  ; 
Reproaches  struck  not  ABSAL  out  of  him, 
But  cfrove  Confusion  in  ;   bitter  became 
The  drinking  of  the  sweet  draught  of  Delight, 
And  wan'd  the  splendour  of  his  Moon  of  Beauty. 
His  breath  was  Indignation,  and  his  heart 
Bled  from  the  arrow,  and  his  anguish  grew. 
How  bear  it  ?  —  By  the  hand  of  Hatred  dealt, 
Fasy  to  meet — and  deal  with,  blow  for  blow  ; 
But  from  Love's  hand  which  one  must  not  requite, 

1  Jamf,  as,  may  be.  other  Saintly  Doctors,  kept  soberly  to  one  Wife. 
But  wherefore,  under  the  Law  of  Muhammad,  should  the  Cock  be 
selected  (as  I  suppose  he  is)  for  a  "  Caution,'''  because  of  his  indulgence 
in  Polygamy,  however  unusual  among  Birds  ? 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  137 

And  cannot  yield  to  —  what  resource  but  Flight  ? 
Resolv'd  on  which,  he  victuall'd  and  equipp'd 
A  Camel,  and  one  night  he  led  it  forth, 
And  mounted  —  he  with  ABSAL  at  his  side, 
Like  sweet  twin  almonds  in  a  single  shell. 
And  Love  least  murmurs  at  the  narrow  space 
That  draws  him  close  and  closer  in  embrace. 


When  the  Moon  of  Canaan  YUSUF 
/;/  the  prison  of  Egypt  darkened, 
Nightly  from  her  spacious  Palace- 
Chamber,  and  its  rich  array, 
Stole  ZULAIKIIA  like  a  fantom 
To  the  dark  and  narrow  dungeon 

Where  her  buried  treasure  lay. 
Then  to  those  about  her  wondering  — 
' '  Were  my  Palace, ' '  she  replied, 
"Wider  than  Horizon  wide, 
"ft  were  narroiucr  tJian  an  Anfs  eye, 
"Were  my  Treasure  not  inside  : 
"And  an  Ant's  eye,  if  but  there 
"My  lover,  Heaven's  horizon  were."1 


Six  days  SALAMAN  on  the  Camel  rode, 
And  then  the  hissing  arrows  of  reproof 
Were  fallen  far  behind  ;  and  on  the  Seventh 


> 


138  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

He  halted  on  the  Seashore  ;  on  the  shore 
Of  a  great  Sea  that  reaching  like  a  floor 
Of  rolling  Firmament  below  the  Sky's 
From  KAF  to  KAF,  to  GAu  and  MAHI1  down 
Descended,  and  its  Stars  were  living  eyes. 
The  Face  of  it  was  as  it  were  a  range 
Of  moving  Mountains  ;   or  a  countless  host 
Of  Camels  trooping  tumultuously  up, 
Host  over  host,  and  foaming  at  the  lip. 
Within,  innumerable  glittering  things 
Sharp  as  cut  Jewels,  to  the  sharpest  eye 
Scarce  visible,  hither  and  thither  slipping, 
As  silver  scissors  slice  a  blue  brocade  ; 
But  should  the  Dragon  coil'd  in  the  abyss'2 
Emerge  to  light,  his  starry  counter-sign 
Would  shrink  into  the  depth  of  Heav'n  aghast. 

SALAMAN  eyed  the  moving  wilderness 

On  which  he  thought,  once  launcht,  no  foot  nor  eye 

1  Bull  and  Fish  —  the  lowest  Substantial  Base  of  Earth.  "He  first 
made  the  Mountains;  then  cleared  the  Face  of  the  Earth  from  Sea; 
then  fixed  it  fast  on  GAr  ;  Gau  on  Mahi ;  and  Mahi  on  Air  ;  and  Air 
on  what?  on  NOTHING;  Nothing  on  Nothing,  all  is  Nothing  — 
Enough."  Attar;  quoted  in  De  Sacy's  Pendnamah,  xxxv. 

-  The  Sidereal  Dragon,  whose  Head,  according  to  the  Pauranic  (or 
poetic)  astronomers  of  the  East,  devoured  the  Sun  and  Moon  in  Eclipse. 
"But  7i>e  know,"  said  Ramachandra  to  Sir  W.  Jones,  "  that  the  sup- 
posed Head  and  Tail  of  the  Dragon  mean  only  the  AW«,  or  points 
formed  by  intersections  of  the  Ecliptic  and  the  Moon's  Orbit."  Sir  W. 
|ones'  Works,  vol.  iv.,  p.  74. 

V  /> 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  139 

Should  ever  follow  ;  forthwith  he  devis'd 
Of  sundry,  scented  woods  along  the  shore 
A  little  shallop  like  a  Quarter-moon, 
Wherein,  Absal  and  He  like  Sun  and  Moon 
Enter'd  as  into  some  Celestial  Sign  ; 
That,  figured  like  a  bow,  but  arrow-like 
In  flight,  was  feather'd  with  a  little  sail, 
And,  pitcht  upon  the  water  like  a  duck, 
So  with  her  bosom  sped  to  her  Desire. 

When  they  had  sailed  their  vessel  for  a  Moon, 
And  marr'd  their  beauty  with  the  wind  o'  the  Sea, 
Suddenly  in  mid  sea  reveal'd  itself 
An  Isle,  beyond  imagination  fair  ; 
An  Isle  that  all  was  Garden  ;   not  a  Flower, 
Nor  Bird  of  plumage  like  the  flower,  but  there  ; 
Some  like  the  Flower,  and  others  like  the  Leaf; 
Some,  as  the  Pheasant  and  the  Dove  adorn'd 
With  crown  and  collar,  over  whom,  alone, 
The  jewell'd  Peacock  like  a  Sultan  shone  ; 
While  the  Musicians,  and  among  them  Chief 
The  Nightingale,  sang  hidden  in  the  trees 
Which,  arm  in  arm,  from  fingers  quivering 
With  any  breath  of  air,  fruit  of  all  kind 
Down  scatter'd  in  profusion  to  their  feet, 
Where  fountains  of  sweet  water  ran  between, 
And  Sun  and  shadow  chequer-chased  the  green. 


140  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Here  Iram-garden  seem'd  in  secresy 
Blowing  the  rosebud  of  his  Revelation;1 
Or  Paradise,  forgetful  of  the  dawn 
Of  Audit,  lifted  from  her  face  the  veil. 

SALAMAN  saw  the  Isle,  and  thought  no  more 

Of  Further  —  there  with  ABSAL  he  sate  down, 

ABSAL  and  He  together  side  by  side 

Together  like  the  Lily  and  the  Rose, 

Together  like  the  Soul  and  Body,  one. 

Under  its  trees  in  one  another's  arms 

They  slept — they  drank  its  fountains  hand  in  hand 

Paraded  with  the  Peacock  —  raced  the  Partridge  — 

Chased  the  green  Parrot  for  his  stolen  fruit, 

Or  sang  divisions  with  the  Nightingale. 

There  was  the  Rose  without  a  thorn,  and  there 

The  Treasure  and  no  Serpent2  to  beware  — 

Oh  think  of  such  a  Mistress  at  your  side 

In  such  a  Solitude,  and  none  to  chide  ! 


Said  to  WAMIK  one  who  never 
Knew  the  Lover's  passion  —  "Why 
"Solitary  thus  and  silent 
"Solitary  places  haunting, 

1  Note  in  Appendix. 

2  The  supposed  guardian  of  buried  treasure. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  141 

"Like  a  Dreamer,  like  a  Spectre, 

11  Like  a  thing  about  to  die  ?  " 
WAMIK  answer 'd  — "Meditating 
"Flight  with  Azrd1  to  the  Desert  : 
"There  by  so  remote  a  Fountain 

"That,  whichever  ivay  one  travelled, 
"League  on  league,  one  yet  should  never 
"Sec  the  face  of  Man  ;  for  ever 
"  There  to  gaze  on  my  Beloved  ; 
' '  Gaze,  till  Gazing  out  of  Gazing 
"Grew  to  Being  Her  I  gaze  on, 
"  SHE  and  I  no  more,  but  in  One 
"Undivided  Being  blended. 
"All  that  is  by  Nature  twain 
"Fears,  or  suffers  by,  t lie  pain 
"Of  Separation :  Love  is  only 

"Perfect  when  itself  transcends 
"Itself,  and  one  with' that  it  loves, 
"In  undivided  Being  blends." 


WHEN  by  and  by  the  SllAH  was  made  aware 
Of  that  heart-breaking  Flight,  his  royal  robe 
He  chang'd  for  ashes,  and  his  Throne  for  dust, 
And  wept  awhile  in  darkness  and  alone. 

1   Wnmik  and  Azni  (Lover  and  Virgin)  two  typical  Lover: 


142  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Then  rose  ;  and,  taking  counsel  from  the  SAGE, 

Pursuit  set  everywhere  afoot :   but  none 

Could  trace  the  footstep  of  the  flying  Deer. 

Then  from  his  secret  Art  the  Sage-Vizyr 

A  Magic  Mirror  made  ;   a  Mirror  like 

The  bosom  of  All-wise  Intelligence 

Reflecting  in  its  mystic  compass  all 

Within  the  sev'n-fold  volume  of  the  World 

Involv'd  ;   and,  looking  in  that  Mirror's  face, 

The  SHAH  beheld  the  face  of  his  Desire. 

Beheld  those  Lovers  like  that  earliest  pair 

Of  Lovers,  in  this  other  Paradise 

So  far  from  human  eyes  in  the  mid  sea, 

And  yet  within  the  magic  glass  so  near 

As  with  a  finger  one  might  touch  them,  isled. 

THE  SHAH  beheld  them  ;   and  compassion  touch'd 

His  eyes  and  anger  died  upon  his  lips  ; 

And  arm'cl  with  Righteous  Judgment  as  he  was, 

Yet,  seeing  those  twro  Lovers  with  one  lip 

Drinking  that  cup  of  Happiness  and  Tears1 

In  which  Farewell  had  never  yet  been  flung," 

He  paused  for  their  Repentance  to  recall 

The  lifted  arm  that  was  to  shatter  all. 


'-'  A  pebble  flung  into  a  Cup  being  a  signal  for  a  company  to  break  up. 


SALAMAX     AXD     ABSAL.  143 

The  Lords  of  Wrath  have  perish'd  by  the  blow 
Themselves  had  aimed  at  others  long  ago. 
Draw  not  in  haste  the  sword,  which  Fate,  may  be, 
Will  sheathe,  hereafter  to  be  drawn  on  Thee. 


FARHAD,  who  the  shape/ess  mountain 
Into  Jiuman  likeness  moulded, 
Under  SHI RlN's  eyes  as  slavish 
Potters'  earth  himself  became. 

Then  the  secret  fire  of  jealous 
Frenzy,  catching  and  devouring 

KAI  KlIUSRAU,  broke  into  flame. 

With  that  ancient  Hag  of  Darkness 
Plotting,  at  the  midnight  Banquet 
FARHAD'S  golden  cup  he  poison' d, 

And  in  Slliuix's  eyes  alone 
Reign' d —  But  Fate  tliat  Fate  revenges, 
Arms  SlllRUYFH  witli  the  dagger 
Tliat  at  once  from  Si  I  IRIX  tore, 

And  hurl' d  him  lifeless  from  his  throne.1 

1  One  story  is  that  Khusrau  had  promised  that  if  Farhad  cut  through 
a  Mountain,  and  brought  a  Stream  through,  Shirin  should  be  his. 
Farhad  was  on  the  point  of  achieving  his  work,  when  Khusrau  sent  an 
old  Woman  (here,  perhaps,  purposely  confounded  with  Fate)  to  tell 
him  Shirin  was  dead  :  whereon  Farhad  threw  himself  headlong  from 
the  Rock.  The  Sculpture  at  Beysitun  (or  Besitiim,  where  Rawlinson 
has  deciphered  Darius  and  Xerxes,  was  traditionally  called  Farhad's. 


144  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

BUT  as  the  days  went  on,  and  still  THE  SHAH 

Beheld  his  Son  how  in  the  Woman  lost, 

And  still  the  Crown  that  should  adorn  his  head, 

And  still  the  Throne  that  waited  for  his  foot, 

Both  trampled  under  by  a  base  desire, 

Of  which  the  Soul  was  still  unsatisfied  — 

Then  from  the  sorrow  of  THE  SHAH  fell  Fire  ; 

To  Gracelessness  ungracious  he  became, 

And,  quite  to  shatter  that  rebellious  lust, 

Upon  SALAMAN  all  his  WILL,  with  all1 

His  SAGE-VlZYR's  Might-magic  arm'd,  discharged. 

And  Lo  !  SALAMAN  to  his  Mistress  turn'd, 

But  could  not  reach  her  —  look'd  and  look'd  again, 

And  palpitated  tow'rd  her  —  but  in  vain  ! 

Oh  Misery  !     As  to  the  Bankrupt's  eyes 

The  Gold  he  may  not  finger  !  or  the  Well 

To  him  who  sees  a-thirst,  and  cannot  reach. 

Or  Heav'n  above  reveal'd  to  those  in  Hell ! 

Yet  when  SALAMAN's  anguish  was  extreme, 

The  door  of  Mercy  open'd  and  he  saw 

That  Arm  he  knew  to  be  his  Father's  reacht 

To  lift  him  from  the  pit  in  which  he  lay  : 

Timidly  tow'rd  his  Father's  eyes  his  own 

He  lifted,  pardon-pleading,  crime-confest, 
And  drew  once  more  to  that  forsaken  Throne, 

As  the  stray  bird  one  day  will  find  her  nest. 

1  He  Mesmerises  him  !  — See  also  further  on  this  Power  of  the  Wiu, 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  145 

One  was  asking  of  a  Teacher, 
"Hoiu,  a  Father  his  reputed 

"Son,  for  his  should  recognise  ?  " 
Said  the  Master,  "By  the  stripling, 
"As  he  groivs  to  manhood,  growing 
"Like  to  his  reputed  Father, 

' '  Good  or  Evil,  Fool  or  Wise. 

"Lo  the  disregarded  Darnel 

"With  itself  adorns  the  Wheat-Jicld, 

"And  for  all  the  vernal  season 

"Satisfies  the  farmer's  eye  ; 
"But  the  Jwur  of  harvest  coming, 

"And  the  tlirasJier  by  and  by, 
"  Then  a  barren  car  shall  answer, 
'   "  'Darnel,  and  no  Wheat,  am  /. ' ' 


YET  Ah  for  that  poor  Lover  !      "  Next  the  curse 

"  Of  Love  by  Love  forbidden,  nothing  worse 

"  Than  Friendship  turn'd  in  Love's  reproof  unkind, 

"And  Love  from  Love  divorcing" — Thus  I  said: 
Alas,  a  worse,  and  worse,  is  yet  behind  — 

Love's  back-blow  of  Revenge  for  having  fled  ! 

SALAMAN  bow'd  his  forehead  to  the  dust 
Before  his  Father  ;   to  his  Father's  hand 
Fast  —  but  yet  fast,  and  faster  to  his  own 


146  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Clung  one,  who  by  no  tempest  of  reproof 
Or  wrath  might  be  dissever'd  from  the  stem 
She  grew  to :   till,  between  Remorse  and  Love, 
He  came  to  loathe  his  Life  and  long  for  Death. 
And,  as  from  him  She  would  not  be  divorc'd, 
With  Her  he  fled  again  :  he  fled — but  now 
To  no  such  Island  centred  in  the  sea 
As  lull'd  them  into  Paradise  before  ; 
But  to  the  Solitude  of  Desolation, 
The  Wilderness  of  Death.     And  as,  before, 
Of  sundry  scented  woods  along  the  shore 
A  shallop  he  devised  to  carry  them 
Over  the  waters  whither  foot  nor  eye 
Should  ever  follow  them,  he  thought  —  so  now 
Of  sere  wood  strewn  about  the  plain  of  Death, 
A  raft  to  bear  them  through  the  wave  of  Fire 
Into  Annihilation,  he  devis'd,  » 

Gather'd,  and  built ;   and,  firing  with  a  Torch, 
Into  the  central  flame  ABSAL  and  He 
Sprung  hand  in  hand  exulting.      But  the  SAGE 
In  secret  all  had  order'd  ;   and  the  Flame, 
Directed  by  his  self-fulfilling  WILL, 
Devouring  Her  to  ashes,  left  untouch'd 
SALAMAX —  all  the  baser  metal  burn'd, 
And  to  itself  the  authentic  Gold  return'd. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  147 


PART  III. 

FROM  the  Beginning  such  has  been  the  Fate 
Of  Man,  whose  very  clay  was  soak'd  in  tears. 
For  when  at  first  of  common  Earth  they  took, 
And  moulded  to  the  stature  of  the  Soul, 
For  Forty  days,  full  Forty  days,  the  cloud 
Of  Heav'n  wept  over  him  from  head  to  foot : 
And  when  the  Forty  days  had  passed  to  Night, 
The  Sunshine  of  one  solitary  day 
Look'd  out  of  Heav'n  to  dry  the  weeping  clay.1 
And  though  that  sunshine  in  the  long  arrear 
Of  darkness  on  the  breathless  image  rose, 
Yet,  with  the  Living,  every  wise  man  knows 
Such  consummation  scarcely  shall  be  here  ! 

SALAMAX  fired  the  pile;   and  in  the  flame 

That,  passing  him,  consumed  ABSAL  like  straw, 

Died  his  Divided  Self,  his  Individual 

Surviv'd,  and,  like  a  living  Soul  from  which 

The  Body  falls,  strange,  naked,  and  alone. 

Then  rose  his  cry  to  Heaven  —  his  eyelashes 

Wept  blood  —  his  sighs  stood  like  a  smoke  in  Heaven, 

And  Morning  rent  her  garment  at  his  anguish. 

l   Some  such    Legend  is  quoted  by   I)e  Sacy   and   D'Herbelot   from 
some  commentaries  on  the  Kuran. 


.5*5 


148  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

And  when  Night  came,  that  drew  the  pen  across 

The  written  woes  of  Day  for  all  but  him, 

Crouch'd  in  a  lonely  corner  of  the  house, 

He  seem'd  to  feel  about  him  in  the  dark 

For  one  who  was  not,  and  whom  no  fond  word 

Could  summon  from  the  Void  in  which  she  lay. 

And  so  the  Wise  One  found  him  where  he  sate 
Bow'd  down  alone  in  darkness  ;  and  once  more 
Made  the  long-silent  voice  of  Reason  sound 
In  the  deserted  Palace  of  his  Soul  ; 
Until  SALAMAN  lifted  up  his  head 
To  bow  beneath  the  Master  ;   sweet  it  seemed, 
Sweeping  the  chaff  and  litter  from  his  own, 
To  be  the  very  dust  of  Wisdom's  door, 
Slave  of  the  Firman  of  the  Lord  of  Life, 
Who  pour'd  the  wine  of  Wisdom  in  his  cup, 
Who  laid  the  dew  of  Peace  upon  his  lips  ; 
Yea,  wrought  by  Miracle  in  his  behalf. 
For  when  old  Love  return'd  to  Memory, 
And  broke  in  passion  from  his  lips,  THE   SAGE, 
Under  whose  waxing  WILL  Existence  rose 
From  Nothing,  and  relaxing,  waned  again, 
Raising  a  Fantom  Image  of  ABSAL, 
Set  it  awhile  before  SALAMAN'S  eyes, 
Till,  having  sow'd  the  seed  of  comfort  there, 
It  went  again  down  to  Annihilation. 

/ 


p 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  149 

But  ever,  as  the  Fantom  pass'd  away, 

THE  SAGE  would  tell  of  a  Celestial  Love ; 

"  ZUHRAH,"  *  he  said,  "ZUHRAH,  compared  with  whom 

"  That  brightest  star  that  bears  her  name  in  Heav'n 

"  Was  but  a  winking  taper  ;  and  Absal, 

"  Queen-star  of  Beauties  in  this  world  below, 

"  But  her  distorted  image  in  the  stream 

''  Of  fleeting  Matter  ;   and  all  Eloquence, 

"  And  Soul-enchaining  harmonies  of  Song, 

"  A  far-off  echo  of  that  Harp  in  Heav'n 

"  Which  Dervish-dances  to  her  harmony." 

SALAMAN  listen  d,  and  inclin'd  —  again 

Entreated,  inclination  ever  grew  ; 

Until  TllE  SAGE  beholding  in  his  Soul 

The  SPIRIT2  quicken,  so  effectually 

With  ZUHRAH  wrought,  that  she  reveal'd  herself 

In  her  pure  lustre  to  SALAMAN's  Soul, 

And  blotting  ABSAL'S  Image  from  his  breast, 

There  reign'd  instead.      Celestial  Beauty  seen, 

He  left  the  Earthly  ;  and,  once  come  to  know 

Eternal  Love,  the  Mortal  he  let  go. 


THE  Crown  of  Empire  how  supreme  a  lot  ! 
The  Sultan's  Throne  how  lofty  !     Yea,  but  not 

1  "  ZUHRAH."     The  Planetary  and  Celestial  Venus. 

2  "Afa'nd."     The    Mystical   pass-word    of  the   Sufi's,  to  express   the 
transcendental  Xe\v  Birth  of  the  Soul. 


/v 
5V 


150  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

For  All  —  None  but  the  Heaven-ward  foot  may  dare 
To  mount  —  The  head  that  touches  Heaven  to  wear  ! 

When  the  Belov'd  of  Royal  augury 

Was  rescued  from  the  bondage  of  ABSAL, 

Then  he  arose,  and  shaking  off  the  dust 

Of  that  lost  travel,  girded  up  his  heart, 

And  look'd  with  undefiled  robe  to  Heaven. 

Then  was  his  Head  worthy  to  wear  the  Crown, 

His  Foot  to  mount  the  Throne.   And  then  THE  SHAH 

From  all  the  quarters  of  his  World-wide  realm 

Summon'd  all  those  who  under  Him  the  ring 

Of  Empire  wore,  King,  Counsellor,  Amir  ; 

Of  whom  not  one  but  to  SALAMAN  did 

Obeisance,  and  lifted  up  his  neck 

To  yoke  it  under  His  supremacy. 

Then  THE  SHAH  crown'd  him  with  the  Golden  Crown, 

And  set  the  Golden  Throne  beneath  his  feet, 

And  over  all  the  heads  of  the  Assembly, 

And  in  the  ears  of  all,  his  Jewel-word 

With  the  Diamond  of  Wisdom  cut,  and  said  :  — 


"  My  Son,1  the  Kingdom  of  The  World  is  not 
"Eternal,  nor  the  sum  of  right  desire; 

1  One  sees  Jami  taking  advantage  of  his  Allegorical  Shah  to  read  a 
lesson  to  the  Living  —  whose  ears  Advice,  unlike  Praise,  scarce  ever 
reached  unless  obliquely  and  by  Fable.  The  Warning  (and  doubtless 
with  good  reason)  is  principally  aimed  at  the  Minister. 


>y 

SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  151 

"  Make  thou  the  Law  reveal'd  of  God  thy  Law, 

"  The  voice  of  Intellect  Divine  within 

"  Interpreter;   and  considering  TO-DAY 

"  To-MORROW's  Seed-field,  ere  That  come  to  bear, 

"Sow  with  the  Harvest  of  Eternity. 

"  And,  as  all  Work,  and,  most  of  all,  the  Work 

"  That  Kings  are  born  to,  wisely  should  be  wrought, 

"  \Vhere  doubtful  of  thine  own  sufficiency, 

"  Ever,  as  I  have  done,  consult  the  Wise. 

"  Turn  not  thy  face  away  from  the  Old  ways, 

"  That  were  the  canon  of  the  Kings  of  Old  ; 

"  Nor  cloud  with  Tyranny  the  glass  of  Justice : 

"  By  Mercy  rather  to  right  Order  turn 

"  Confusion,  and  Disloyalty  to  Love. 

"  In  thy  provision  for  the  Realm's  estate, 

"  And  for  the  Honour  that  becomes  a  King, 

"  Drain  not  thy  People's  purse  —  the  Tyranny 

"  Which  Thee  enriches  at  thy  Subject's  cost, 

"  Awhile  shall  make  thee  strong;   but  in  the  end 

"  Shall  bow  thy  neck  beneath  thy  People's  hate, 

"  And  lead  thee  with  the  Robber  down  to  Hell. 

"Thou  art  a  Shepherd,  and  thy  Flock  the  People, 

"  To  help  and  save,  not  ravage  and  destroy  ; 

"  For  which  is  for  the  other,  Flock  or  Shepherd  ? 

"  And  join  with  thee  True  men  to  keep  the  Flock  — 

"  Dogs,  if  you  will  —  but  trusty  —  head  in  leash, 

"  Whose  teeth  are  for  the  Wolf,  not  for  the  Lamb, 


152  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

"  And  least  of  all  the  Wolf's  accomplices. 

"  For  Shahs  must  have  Vizyrs — but  be  they  Wise 

"  And  Trusty — knowing  well  the  Realm's  estate  — 

"  Knowing  how  far  to  Shah  and  Subject  bound 

"  On  either  hand' — nor  by  extortion,  nor 

"  By  usury  wrung  from  the  People's  purse, 

"  Feeding  their  Master,  and  themselves  (with  whom 

"  Enough  is  apt  enough  to  make  rebel) 

"To  such  a  surfeit  feeding  as  feeds  Hell. 

"  Proper  in  soul  and  body  be  they  —  pitiful 

"To  Poverty — hospitable  to  the  Saint  — 

"Their  sweet  Access  a  salve  to  wounded  Hearts  ; 

"Their  Wrath  a  sword  against  Iniquity, 

"  But  at  thy  bidding  only  to  be  drawn ; 

"  Whose  Ministers  they  are,  to  bring  thee  in 

"  Report  of  Good  or  Evil  through  the  Realm  : 

"  Which  to  confirm  with  thine  immediate  Eye, 
"  And  least  of  all,  remember — least  of  all, 
"  Suffering  Accuser  also  to  be  Judge, 

"  By  surest  steps  up-builds  Prosperity." 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  153 


MEANING  OF  THE  STORY. 

UNDER  the  leaf  of  many  a  Fable  lies 

The  Truth  for  those  who  look  for  it ;   of  this 

If  thou  wouldst  look  behind  and  find  the  Fruit, 

(To  which  the  Wiser  hand  hath  found  his  way) 

Have  thy  desire  —  No  Tale  of  ME  and  THEE, 

Though  I  and  THOU  be  its  Interpreters.1 

What  signifies  THE  SHAH  ?  and  what  THE  SAGE  ? 

And  what  SALAMAN  not  of  Woman  born  ? 

Who  was  ABSAL  who  drew  him  to  Desire  ? 

And  what  the  KINGDOM  that  awaited  him 

When  he  had  drawn  his  Garment  from  her  hand  ? 

What  means  THAT  SEA  ?  And  what  that  FlERY  PILE  ? 

And  what  that  Heavenly  ZuiIRAH  who  at  last 

Clear'd  ABSAL  from  the  Mirror  of  his  Soul  ? 

Listen  to  me,  and  you  shall  understand 

The  Word  that  Lover  wrote  along  the  sand.'-' 


THE  incomparable  Creator,  when  this  World 

He  did  create,  created  first  of  all 

The  FIRST  INTELLIGENCE3 —  First  of  a  Chain 

1   The  Story  is  of  Generals,  though  enacted  by  Particulars. 

-  See  page  1 14. 

:i  "These  Ten  Intelligences  are  only  another  Form  of  the  Gnostic 
Daemones.  The  Gnostics  held  that  Matter  and  Spirit  could  have  no 
Intercourse  —  they  were,  as  it  were,  incommensurate.  How  then,  grant- 
ing this  premise,  was  Creation  possible  ?  Their  answer  was  a  kind  of 


154  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

Of  Ten  Intelligences,  of  which  the  Last 

Sole  Agent  is  in  this  our  Universe, 

ACTIVE  INTELLIGENCE  so  call'd  ;  The  One 

Distributer  of  Evil  and  of  Good, 

Of  Joy  and  Sorrow.      Himself  apart  from  MATTER, 

In  Essence  and  in  Energy  —  He  yet 

Hath  fashion'd  all  that  is  —  Material  Form, 

And  Spiritual,  all  from  HIM  —  by  HIM 

Directed  all,  and  in  his  Bounty  drown'd. 

Therefore  is  He  that  Firman-issuing  SHAH 

To  whom  the  World  was  subject.     But  because 

What  He  distributes  to  the  Universe 

Another  and  a  Higher  Power  supplies, 
Therefore  all  those  who  comprehend  aright, 

That  Higher  in  THE  SAGE  will  recognise. 


gradual  Elimination.  God,  the  'Actus  Purus,'  created  an  /Eon  ;  this 
/Eon  created  a  Second ;  and  so  on,  until  the  Tenth  /Eon  was  sufficiently 
Material  (as  the  Ten  were  in  a  continually  descending  Series)  to  affect 
Matter,  and  so  cause  the  Creation  by  giving  to  Matter  and  the  Spiritual 
Form. 

"  Similarly  we  have  in  Sufiism  these  Ten  Intelligences  in  a  corre- 
sponding Series,  and  for  the  same  End. 

"  There  are  Ten  Intelligences,  and  Nine  Heavenly  Spheres,  of  which 
the  Ninth  is  the  Uppermost  Heaven,  appropriated  to  the  First  Intel- 
ligence; the  Eighth,  that  of  the  Zodiac,  to  the  Second;  the  Seventh, 
Saturn,  to  the  Third  ;  the  Sixth,  Jupiter,  to  the  Fourth  ;  the  Fifth,  Mars, 
to  the  Fifth  ;  the  Fourth,  The  Sun,  to  the  Sixth  ;  the  Third,  Venus, 
to  the  Seventh;  the  Second,  Mercury,  to  the  Eighth;  the  First,  the 
Moon,  to  the  Ninth;  and  THK  EARTH  is  the  peculiar  Sphere  of  the 
Tenth,  or  lowest  Intelligence,  called  THK  ACTIVK."  E.  1!.  C. — T. 
Appendix. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  155 

HIS  the  PRIME  SPIRIT  that,  spontaneously 
Projected  by  the  TENTH  INTELLIGENCE, 
Was  from  no  Womb  of  MATTER  reproduced 
A  special  Essence  called  THE  SOUL  OF  MAN  ; 
A  Child  of  Heaven,  in  raiment  unbeshamed 
Of  Sensual  taint,  and  so  SALAMAN  named. 

And  who  ABSAL?  —  The  Sense-adoring  Body, 
Slave  to  the  Blood  and  Sense  —  through  whom  THE 

SOUL, 

Although  the  Body's  very  Life  it  be, 
Doth  yet  imbibe  the  knowledge  and  delight 
Of  things  of  SENSE ;   and  these,  in  such  a  bond 
United  as  GOD  only  can  divide, 
As  Lovers  in  this  tale  are  signified. 

And  what  the  Flood  on  which  they  sail'd,  with  those 

Fantastic  creatures  peopled  ;   and  that  Isle 

In  which  their  Paradise  awhile  they  made, 

And  thought,  for  ever  ?  —  That  false  Paradise 

Amid  the  fluctuating  Waters  found 

Of  Sensual  passion,  in  whose  bosom  lies 

A  world  of  Being  from  the  light  of  God 

Deep  as  in  unsubsiding  Deluge  drown'd. 

And  why  was  it  that  ABSAL  in  that  Isle 
So  soon  deceived  in  her  Delight,  and  Pie 
Fell  short  of  his  Desire  ?  —  that  was  to  show 


156  SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL. 

How  soon  the  Senses  of  their  Passion  tire, 
And  in  a  surfeit  of  themselves  expire. 

And  what  the  turning  of  SALAMAN'S  Heart 
Back  to  the  SHAH,  and  to  the  throne  of  Might 
And  Glory  yearning?  —  What  but  the  return 
Of  the  lost  SOUL  to  his  true  Parentage, 
And  back  from  Carnal  error  looking  up 
Repentant  to  his  Intellectual  Right. 

And  when  the  Man  between  his  living  shame 

Distracted,  and  the  Love  that  would  not  die, 

Fled  once  again  —  what  meant  that  second  Flight 

Into  the  Desert,  and  that  Pile  of  Fire 

On  which  he  fain  his  Passion  with  Himself 

Would  immolate?  —  That  was  the  Discipline 

To  which  the  living  Man  himself  devotes, 

Till  all  the  Sensual  dross  be  scorcht  away, 

And,  to  its  pure  integrity  return'd, 

His  Soul  alone  survives.     But  forasmuch 

As  from  a    darling  Passion  so  divorc'd 

The  wound  will  open  and  will  bleed  anew, 

Therefore  THE  SAGE  would  ever  and  anon 

Raise  up  and  set  before  Salaman's  eyes 

That  Fantom  of  the  past ;   but  evermore 

Revealing  one  Diviner,  till  his  Soul 

She  fill'd  and  blotted  out  the  Mortal  Love. 


SALAMAN     AND     ABSAL.  157 

For  what  is  ZUHRAH  ?  —  What  but  that  Divine 

Original,  of  which  the  Soul  of  Man 

Darkly  possest,  by  that  fierce  Discipline 

At  last  he  disengages  from  the  Dust, 

And  flinging  off  the  baser  rags  of  Sense, 

And  all  in  Intellectual  Light  arrayed, 

As  Conqueror  and  King  he  mounts  the  Throne, 

And  wears  the  Crown  of  Human  Glory  —  Whence 

Throne  over  Throne  surmounting,  he  shall  reign 

One  with  the  LAST  and  FIRST  INTELLIGENCE. 


This  is  the  meaning  of  this  Mystery, 
Which  to  know  wholly  ponder  in  thy  Heart, 
Till  all  its  ancient  Secret  be  enlarged. 
Enough  —  The  written  Summary  I  close, 
And  set  my  Seal  — 


APPENDIX. 

l<  To  thy  Harim  Dividuality 

"No  entrance  finds,"  &c.     (p.  110.) 

This  Sufi  Identification  with  Deity  (further  illustrated  in 
the  Story  of  Salaman's  first  flight)  is  shadowed  in  a  Parable 
of  Jelaluddiu,  of  which  here  is  an  outline.  "  One  knocked  at 
the  Beloved's  Door  ;  and  a  Voice  asked  from  within,  'Who  is 
there  ? '  and  he  answered,  i  It  is  I.'  Then  the  Voice  said, 
'  This  House  will  not  hold  Me  and  Thee.'  And  the  Door  was 
not  opened.  Then  went  the  Lover  into  the  Desert,  and  fasted 
and  prayed  in  Solitude.  And  after  a  Year  he  returned,  and 
knocked  again  at  the  Door.  And  again  the  Voice  asked, 
'  Who  is  there  ? '  and  he  said,  '  It  is  Thyself ! '  —  and  the  Door 
was  opened  to  him." 


"O  darlinf/  of  tJte  soul  of  Ijidtun 

"  To  trlwm  trith  all  Jtis  school  Aristo  &o/rx."     (p.  117.) 

Some  Traveller  in  the  East  —  Professor  Eastwick,  I  think  — 
tells  us  that  in  endeavouring  to  explain  to  an  Eastern  Cook 
the  nature  of  an  Irish  Stew,  the  man  said  he  knew  well  enough 
about  ll  Aristo.'1'1  "Ificitun  "  might  almost  as  well  have  been 
taken  for  "Volant-cut."1' 


"  Like  Noaltfs,  puffed  with-  Insolence  and  Pride,"  tOc. 
(p.  1.18.) 

In  the  Kuran  God  engages  to  save  Noah  and  his  Family, — 
meaning  all  who  believed  in  the  warning.  One  of  Noah's 
Sons  (Canaan  or  Hani,  some  think)  would  not  believe.  "And 
the  Ark  swam  with  them  between  the  waves  like  Mountains, 
and  Noah  called  up  to  his  Son,  v/lio  was  separated  from  him. 


w 

APPENDIX.      .  159 

saying,  ]'  Embark  with  us,  my  son,  and  stay  not  with  the 
Unbelievers.'  He  answered, '  I  will  get  on  a  Mountain  which 
will  secure  me  from  the  Water.'  Noah  replied,  ;  There  is  no 
security  this  Day  from  the  Decree  of  God,  except  for  him  on 
whom  He  shall  have  mercy.'  And  a  Wave  passed  between 
them,  and  he  became  one  of  those  who  were  drowned.  And 
it  was  said,  (  Oh  Earth,  swallow  up  thy  waters,  and  Thou,  oh 
Heaven,  withhold  thy  rain  ! '  And  immediately  the  Water 
abated,  and  the  Decree  was  fulfilled,  and  the  Ark  rested  on 
the  Mountain  Al-Judi,  and  it  was  said,  'Away  with  the  un- 
godly People ! '  —  Noah  called  upon  his  Lord,  and  said,  '  Oh 
Lord,  verily  my  Son  is  of  my  Family,  and  thy  Promise  is 
True ;  for  Thou  art  of  those  who  exercise  judgment.'  God 
answered,  '  Oh  Noah,  verily  he  is  not  of  thy  Family ;  this 
intercession  of  thine  for  him  is  not  a  righteous  work.' " 
Sale's  Kurdn,  vol.  ii.  p.  21. 


''  Finer  than  any  Bridal-puppet,  ichich 

"  To  prove  another's  Love  a  Woman  sends,"  &c.    (p.  123.) 

In  Atkinson's  version  of  the  "  Kitabi  Kulsum  Naneh,"  we 
find  among  other  Ceremonials  and  Proprieties  of  which  the 
Book  treats,  that  when  a  woman  wished  to  ascertain  another's 
Love,  she  sent  a  Doll  on  a  Tray  with  flowers  and  sweetmeats, 
and  judged  how  far  her  affection  was  reciprocated  by  the 
Doll's  being  returned  to  her  drest  in  a  Robe  of  Honour,  or  in 
Black.  The  same  Book  also  tells  of  two  Dolls  —  Bride  and 
Bridegroom,  I  suppose  —  being  used  on  such  occasions ;  the 
test  of  Affection  being  whether  the  one  sent  were  returned 
with  or  without  its  Fellow. 


''Intent  upon  the  Garnet     (p.  124.) 

Chugan,  for  centuries  the  Royal  Game  of  Persia,  and  adopted 
(Ouseley  thinks)  under  varying  modifications  of  name  and 
practice  by  other  nations,  was  played  by  Horsemen,  who, 
suitably  habited,  and  armed  with  semicircular-headed  Bats 


160  .      APPENDIX. 

or  Sticks,  strove  to  drive  a  Ball  through  a  Goal  of  upright 
Pillars.  (See  Plate.)  We  may  call  it  "Horse-hockey,"  as 
heretofore  played  by  young  Englishmen  in  the  Maidan  of 
Calcutta,  and  other  Indian  cities,  I  believe,  and  now  in  Eng- 
land itself  under  the  name  of  Polo. 

The  plate  above  referred  to  is  accurately  copied  from  an 
Engraving  in  Sir  William's  Book,  which,  he  says  (and  those 
who  care  to  look  into  the  Bodleian  for  it  may  see),  is  "  accu- 
rately copied  from  a  very  beautiful  Persian  MS.,  containing 
the  works  of  Hafiz,  transcribed  in  the  year  956  of  the  Hejirah, 
1549  of  Christ ;  the  MS.  is  in  my  own  Collection.  This  Delin- 
eation exhibits  the  Horsemen  contending  for  the  Ball;  their 
short  jackets  seem  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  Sport ;  we  see  the 
MIL,  or  Goals ;  servants  attend  on  foot,  holding  CHUGANS  in 
readiness  for  other  Persons  who  may  join  in  the  Amuse- 
ment, or  to  supply  the  place  of  any  that  may  be  broken.  A 
young  Prince  —  as  his  PARR,  or  Feather,  would  indicate  —  re- 
ceives on  his  Entrance  into  the  MEIDAN,  or  Place  of  Exercise, 
a  CHUGAX  from  the  hands  of  a  bearded  Man  very  plainly 
dressed ;  yet  (as  an  intelligent  Painter  at  Ispahan  assured 
me,  and  as  appears  from  other  Miniatures  in  the  same  Book ) 
this  Bearded  Figure  is  meant  to  represent  Hafiz  himself,"  &c. 

The  Persian  legend  at  the  Top  Corner  is  the  Verse  from 
Hafiz  which  the  Drawing  illustrates  : 

Shahsuvara  khush  bemeidan  amedy  guy  bezann. 


THE  MUEZZIN'S  CRY.     (p.  135.) 

I  am  informed  by  a  distinguished  Arabic  Scholar  that  the 
proper  Cry  of  the  Muezzin  is,  with  some  slight  local  varia- 
tions, such  as  he  heard  it  at  Cairo  and  Damascus  : 

Allah  Akbar,  Allah  Akbar  : 
Allah  Akbar,  Allah  Akbar ; 
Ishhad  la  allah  ilia  'llah  ; 


APPENDIX.  161 

Ishhad  la  allah  ilia  'llah ; 
Ishhad  la  allah  ilia  'llah  ; 
Ishhad  Muhammad  rasiiluhu : 
Ishhad  Muhammad  rasuluhu ; 
Ishhad  Muhammad  rasiiluhu ; 
Haya  'ala  's-salat,  Haya  'ala  's-salat, 
Inna  's-salat  khair  min  an-naum. 

"  God  is  great  "  (four  times);  "•  Confess  that  there  is  no  God 
but  God  "  (three  times);  "  Confess  that  Muhammad  is  the 
prophet  of  God"  (tltree  times);  "  Come  to  Prayer,  Come  to 
Prayer,  for  Prayer  is  better  than  Sleep." 


THE  GARDEN  OF  IRAM.     (p.  140.) 

"Here  Train- Garden  swni'd  in  Sccresy 

u  Blowing  tlie,  Rose-bud  of  his  Iiev<Jat-ion.r 

'*  Mahomet,"  says  Sir  W.  Jones,  "  in  the  Chapter  of  The 
Morning,  towards  the  end  of  his  Alcoran,  mentions  a  Garden 
culled  '  Irem,'  which  is  no  less  celebrated  by  the  Asiatic 
Poets  than  that  of  the  Hesperides  by  the  Greeks.  It  was 
planted,  as  the  Commentators  say,  by  a  king  named  She- 
dad," —  deep  in  the  Sands  of  Arabia  Felix, — ''and  was  once 
seen  by  an  Arabian  who  'wandered  far  into  the  Desert  in 
search  of  a  lost  Camel." 


THE  TEN  INTELLIGENCES.     ( p.  153.) 

A  curious  parallel  to  this  doctrine  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Morley 
(Critical  Miscellanies,  Series  II.,  p.  318),  from  so  anti-gnostic 
a  Doctor  as  Paley,  in  Ch.  III.  of  his  Natural  Theology  : 

"  As  we  have  said,  therefore,  God  prescribes  limits  to  his 
power,  that  he  may  let  in  the  exercise,  and  thereby  exhibit 
demonstrations,  of  his  wisdom.  For  then  —  /.  e.,  such  laws 
and  limitations  being  laid  down,  —  it  is  as  though  some  Being 


1()2  APPENDIX. 

should  have  fixed  certain  rules ;  and,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
provided  certain  materials ;  and,  afterwards,  have  committed 
to  some  other  Being,  out  of  these  materials,  and  in  subordi- 
nation to  these  T-ules,  the  task  of  drawing  forth  a  Creation;  a 
supposition  which  evidently  leaves  room,  and  induces  indeed 
a  necessity,  for  contrivance.  Nay,  there  may  be  many  such 
Agents,  and  many  ranks  of  these.  We  do  not  advance  this  as  a 
doctrine  either  of  philosophy  oi%  religion  ;  but  we  say  that  the 
subject  may  be  safely  represented  under  this  view;  because 
the  Deity,  acting  himself  by  general  laws,  will  have  the  same 
consequence  upon  our  reasoning,  as  if  he  had  prescribed 
these  laws  to  another.'1 


ag 


AGAMEMNON 

A  TRAGEDY.  TAKEN    FROM  /ESCHYLUS. 


[LONDON:    BERNARD  QUARITCH,    13   PICCADILLY,    1876. 


PREFACE. 


[This  Version  —  or  Per,  version —  of  sEscliylus  was 
originally  printed  to  be  given  away  among  Friends, 
who  either  knew  nothing  of  the  Original,  or  would  be 
disposed  to  excuse  the  liberties  taken  with  it  l)y  an 
unworthy  hand. 

Much  as  it  is,  however,  others,  whom  I  do  not  know, 
have  asked  for  copies  -when  I  had  no  more  copies  to 
give.  So  Mr.  Qua r itch  ventures  on  publishing  it  on  his 
own  account,  at  the  risk  of  facing  much  less  indulgent 
critics. 

I  can  add  little  more  to  the  Apology  prefixed  to  the 
private  Edition.]  l 

I  SUPPOSE  that  a  literal  version  of  this  play,  if 
possible,  would  scarce  be  intelligible.  Even  were  the 
dialogue  always  clear,  the  lyric  Choruses,  which  make 
up  so  large  a  part,  are  so  dark  and  abrupt  in  them- 
selves, and  therefore  so  much  the  more  mangled  and 
tormented  by  copyist  and  commentator,  that  the  most 
conscientious  translator  must  not  only  jump  at  a 
meaning,  but  must  bridge  over  a  chasm;  especially  if 

1  The  first  paragraph  of  the  first  impression  was  as  follows  : 
"  I  do  not  like  to  put  this  version  —  or  _/w- version —  of  ^Eschylus 
into  the  few  friendly  hands  it  is  destined  for,  without  some  apology 
to  him  as  well  as  to  them.  Perhaps  the,  best  apology,  so  far  as 
they  are  concerned,  would  be  my  simple  assurance  that  this  is  the 
very  last  Use-maje8t^  I  ever  shall  —  or  can  —  commit  of  the  kind. " 


166  PREFACE. 

lie   determine  to  complete  the  autiphony  of   Strophe 
and  Antistrophe  in  English  verse. 

Thus,  encumbered  with  forms*  which  .sometimes,  I 
think,  hang  heavy  on  ^Eschylus  himself ; l  struggling 
with  indistinct  meanings,  obscure  allusions,  and  even 
with  puns  which  some  have  tried  to  reproduce  in 
English  ;  this  grand  play,  which  to  the  scholar  and  the 
poet,  lives,  breathes,  and  moves  in  the  dead  language, 
has  hitherto  seemed  to  me  to  drag  and  stifle  under 
conscientious  translation  into  the  living ;  that  is  to 
say,  to  have  lost  that  which  I  think  the  drama  can 
least  afford  to  lose  all  the  world  over.  And  so  it  was 
that,  hopeless  of  succeeding  where  as  good  versifiers, 
and  better  scholars,  seem  to  me  to  have  failed,  I  came 
first  to  break  the  bounds  of  Greek  Tragedy ;  then  to 
swerve  from  the  Master's  footsteps ;  and  so,  one 
license  drawing  on  another  to  make  all  of  a  piece, 
arrived  at  the  present  anomalous  conclusion.  If  it  has 
succeeded  in  shaping  itself  into  a  distinct,  consistent, 
and  animated  Whole,  through  which  the  reader  can 
follow  without  halting,'-'  and  not  without  accelerating 

1  For  instance,  the  long  *antiphonal  dialogue  of  the  Chorus 
debating  what  to  do — or  whether  do  anything — after  hearing 
their  master  twice  cry  out  (in  pure  Iambics  also)  that  he  is 
murdered. 

['-'  "  F  wish  the  reader  who  knows  Beethoven  would  supply  —  or 
supplant  —  my  earlier  lyric  Choruses  from  one  of  his  many  works, 
which  seem  to  breathe  ^Eschylns  in  their  language,  as  Michael 
Angelo.  perhaps,  in  another.  For  Cassandra's  ejaculations  we 
must  resort,  I  doubt,  to  a  later  German  music."  Xote  from  first 
edition.] 


PREFACE.  167 

interest  from  beginning  to  end,  he  will  perhaps  excuse 
my  acknowledged  transgressions,  unless  as  well  or  bet- 
ter satisfied  by  some  more  faithful  Interpreter,  or  by 
one  more  entitled  than  myself  to  make  free  with  the 
Original. 

But  to  re-create  the  Traged}r,  body  and  soul,  into 
English,  and  make  the  Poet  free  of  the  language 
which  reigns  over  that  half  of  the  world  never  dreamt 
of  in  his  philosophy,  must  be  reserved  —  especially  the 
Lyric  part — for  some  Poet,  worthy  of  that  name  and 
of  congenial  Genius  with  the  Greek.  Would  that 
every  one  such  would  devote  himself  to  one  such 
work  !  whether  by  Translation,  Paraphrase,  or  Meta- 
phrase, to  use  Dryden's  definition,  whose  Alexander's 
Feast,  and  some  fragments  of  whose  Plays,  indicate 
that  he,  perhaps,  might  have  rendered  such  a  service 
to  ^Eschylus  and  to  us.  Or,  to  go  further  back  in  our 
own  Drama,  one  thinks  what  Marlowe  might  have 
done  ;  himself  a  translator  from  the  Greek  ;  something 
akin  to  ^Eschylus  in  his  genius ;  still  more  in  his 
grandiose,  and  sometimes  autlutdostontoHs  verse ;  of 
which  some  lines  relating  to  this  very  play  fall  so  little 
short  of  Greek,  that  I  shall  but  shame  my  own  by 
quoting  them  beforehand  ; 

"  Is  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium  ? 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss  !  " 


DRAMATIS    PERSON/E. 


AGAMEMNON,  King  of  Argos. 

CLYTEMNESTRA,  his  Queen. 

yEoiSTHUS,  his   Cousin. 

CASSANDRA,  Daughter  of  King  PRIAM, 

HERALD, 

CHORUS  of  Ancient   Councillors. 


The  scene  is  at  ARGOS. 


AGAMEMXOX. 


[AGAMEMNON'S  Palace  :  a  Warder  on  the 
Battlements.] 

WARDER. 

[Once  more,  once  more,  and  once  again  once  more] 

I  crave  the  Gods'  compassion,  and  release 

From  this  inexorable  watch,  that  now 

For  one  whole  year,  close  as  a  couching  dog, 

On  Agamemnon's  housetop  I  have  kept, 

Contemplating  the  muster  of  the  stars, 

And  those  transplendent  Dynasties  of  Heav'n1 

That,  as  alternately  they  rise  and  fall, 

Draw  Warmth  and  Winter  over  mortal  man. 

Thus,  and  thus  long,  I  say,  at  the  behest 

Of  the  man-minded  Woman  who  here  rules, 

Here  have  I  watch'd  till  yonder  mountain-top 

1  The  commentators  generally  understand  these  XajA-fiO'jr;  O'jva-Ta; 
to  mean  Sun  and  Moon.  Klomfield,  I  believe,  admits  they  may  be  the 
Constellations  by  which  the  seasons  were  anciently  marked,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Pleiades  further  on  in  the  Play.  The  Moon,  I  suppose,  had 
no  part  to  play  in  such  a  computation;  and,  as  for  the  Sun,  the 
beacon-fire  surely  implies  a  night-watch. 


1.70  AGAMEMNON. 

Shall  kindle  with  a  signal -light  from  Troy. 
And  watch'd  in  vain,  coucht  on  the  barren   stone, 
Night  after  night,  night  after  night,  alone, 
Ev'n  by  a  wandering  dream  unvisited, 
To  which  the  terror  of  my  post  denies 
The  customary  passage  of  closed  eyes, 
From  which,  when  haply  nodding,  I  would  scare 
Forbidden  sleep,  or  charm  long  night  away 
With  some  old  ballad  of  the  good  old  times, 
The  foolish  song  falls  presently  to  tears, 
Remembering  the  glories  of  this  House, 
Where  all  is  not  as  all  was  wont  to  be, — 
Xo,  nor  as  should  —  Alas,  these  royal  walls, 
Had  they  but  tongue  (as  ears  and  eyes,  men  say) 
Would  tell  strange  stories! — But,  for  fear  they  should, 
Mine  shall  be  mute  as  they  are.      Only  this  — 
And  this  no  treason  surely  —  might  1  but, 
But  once  more  might  I,  see  my  lord  again 
Safe  home  !  But  once  more  look  upon  his  face  ! 
But  once  more  take  his  hand  in  mine!  — 

Hilloa  ! 
The    words  scarce    from   my   lips. —  Have    the    Gods 

heard  ? 

Or  am  I  dreaming  wide  awake  ?  as  wide 
Awake  1  am  —  The  Light!   The  Light!   The  Light 
Long  lookt  for,  long  despair'd  of,  on  the  Height  ! 
Oh  more  to  me  than  all  the  stars  of  ni<rht  ! 


AGAMEMNON.  171 

More  than  the  Morning-star  !  —  more  than  the  Sun 
Who  breaks  my  nightly  watch,  this  rising  one 
Which  tells  me  that  my  year-long  night  is  done  ! 
When,  shaking  off  the  collar  of  my  watch, 
I  first  to'Clytemnestra  shall  report 
Such  news  as,  if  indeed  a  lucky  cast 
For  her  and  Argos,  sure  a  Main  to  me  ! 
But  grant  the  Gods,  to  all  !   A  master-cast, 
More  than  compensating  all  losses  past ; 
And  lighting  up  our  altars  with  a  fire 
Of  Victory  that  never  shall  expire  ! 
[Exit  Warder.      Daylight  gradually  dawns,  and  enter 
slowly  Chorus. 

CHORUS. 

i. 
Another  rising  of  the  sun 

That  rolls  another  year  away 
Sees  us  through  the  portal  dun 

Dividing  night  and  day 
Like  to  phantoms  from  the  crypt 
Of  Morpheus  or  of  Hades  slipt, 

Through  the  sleeping  city  creeping, 
Murmuring  an  ancient  song 
Of  unvindicated  wrong, 
Ten  year  told  as  ten  year  long. 
Since  to  revenue  the  great  abuse 


172  AUAMEMNOX. 

To  Themis  done  by  Priam's  son, 
The  Brother- Princes  that,  co-heir 
Of  Atreus,  share  his  royal  chair. 

And  from  the  authentic  hand  of  Zeus 
His  delegated  sceptre  bear, 

Startled  Greece  with  such  a  cry 
For  Vengeance  as  a  plunder'd  pair 
Of  Eagles  over  their  aerial  lair 
Screaming,  to  whirlpool  lash  the  waves  of  air. 


II. 
The  Robber,  blinded  in  his  own  conceit, 

Must  needs  think  Retribution  deaf  and  blind. 

Fool  !  not  to  know  what  tongue  was  in  tli£  wind, 
When  Tellus  shudder'd  under  flying  feet, 

When  stricken  Ocean  under  alien  wings  ; 
Was  there  no  Phoebus  to  denounce  the  flight 
From  Heav'n  ?  Nor  those  ten  thousand  Eyes  of  Night  ? 
And,  were  no  other  eye  nor  ear  of  man 
Or  God  awake,  yet  universal  Pan, 

For  ever  watching  at  the  heart  of  things. 
And  Zeus,  the  Warden  of  domestic  Right, 

And  the  perennial  sanctity  of  Kings, 
Let  loose  the  Fury  who,  though  late 
Retarded  in  the  leash  of  Fate, 

Once  loos'd,  after  the  Sinner  springs  ; 


AGAMEMNON.  173 


Over  Ocean's  heights  and  hollows, 
Into  cave  and  forest  follows, 

Into  fastest  guarded  town, 
Close  on  the  Sinner's  heel  insists, 
And,  turn  or  baffle  as  he  lists, 

Dogs  him  inexorably  down. 


III. 

Therefore  to  revenge  the  debt 

To  violated  Justice  due,' 
Armed  Hellas  hand  in  hand 

The  iron  toils  of  Ares  drew 
Over  water,  over  land, 
Over  such  a  tract  of  years  ; 
Draught  of  blood  abroad,  of  tears 

At  home,  and  unexhausted  yet : 
All  the  manhood  Greece  could  muster, 

And  her  hollow  ships  enclose  ; 
All  that  Troy  from  her  capacious 

Bosom  pouring  forth  oppose  ; 
By  the  ships,  beneath  the  wall, 

And  about  the  sandy  plain, 
Armour-glancing  files  advancing, 

Fighting,  flying,  slaying,  slain  : 
And  among  them,  and  above  them, 
Crested  Heroes,  twain  by  twain, 


174  AGAMEMNON. 

Lance  to  lance,  and  thrust  to  thrust, 
Front  erect,  and,  in  a  moment, 

One  or  other  roll'd  in  dust. 
Till  the  better  blood  of  Argos 

Soaking  in  the  Trojan  sand, 
In  her  silent  half  dispeopled 

Cities,  more  than  half  unmann'd, 
Little  more  of  man  to  meet 
Than  the  helpless  child,  or  hoary 
Spectre  of  his  second  childhood, 

Tottering  on  triple  feet, 
Like  the  idle  waifs  and  strays 
Blown  together  from  the  ways 

Up  and  down  the  windy  street. 

IV. 

But  thus  it  is  ;   All  bides  the  destin'd  Hour  ; 

And  Man,  albeit  with  Justice  at  his  side, 
Fights  in  the  dark  against  a  secret  Power 

Not  to  be  conquer'd  —  and  how  pacified  ? 

V. 

For,  before  the  Navy  flush'd 

Wing  from  shore,  or  lifted  oar 
To  foam  the  purple  brush'd  ; 
While  about  the  altar  hush'cl 


AGAMEMNON.  175 

Throng'd  the  ranks  of  Greece  thick-fold, 
Ancient  Chalcas  in  the  bleeding 
Volume  of  the  Future  reading 

Evil  things  foresaw,  foretold  : 
That,  to  revenge  some  old  disgrace 

Befall'n  her  sylvan  train, 
Some  dumb  familiar  of  the  Chace 

By  Menelaus  slain, 
The  Goddess  Artemis  would  vex 
The  fleet  of  Greece  with  storms  and  checks  : 

That  Troy  should  not  be  reached  at  all  ; 
Or  —  as  the  Gods  themselves  divide 
In  Heav'n  to  either  mortal  side  — 

If  ever  reach'd,  should  never  fall  — 
Unless  at  such  a  loss  and  cost 
As  counterpoises  Won  and  Lost. 

VI. 

The  Elder  of  the  Royal  Twain 
Listen'd  in  silence,  daring  not  arraign 

111  omen,  or  rebuke  the  raven  lips  : 
Then  taking  up  the  tangled  skein 

Of  Fate,  he  pointed  to  the  ships  ; 
He  sprang  aboard  :   he  gave  the  sign  ; 

And  blazing  in  his  golden  arms  ahead, 
Drew  the  long  Navy  in  a  glittering  line 

After  him  like  a  meteor  o'er  the  main. 


176  AGAMEMNON. 

VII. 

So  from  Argos  forth  :   and  so 

O'er  the  rolling  waters  they, 
Till  in  the  roaring  To-and-fro 

Of  rock-lockt  Aulis  brought  to  stay: 
There  the  Goddess  had  them  fast : 
With  a  bitter  northern  blast 

Blew  ahead  and  block'd  the  way : 
Day  by  day  delay  ;   to  ship 
And  tackle  damage  and  decay  ; 
Day  by  day  to  Prince  and  People 

Indignation  and  dismay. 
"  All  the  while  that  in  the  ribb'd 
"  Bosom  of  their  vessels  cribb'd, 
"  Tower-crowned  Troy  above  the  waters 
"  Yonder,  quaffing  from  the  horn 
"  Of  Plenty,  laughing  them  to  scorn  " — 

So  would  one  to  other  say  ; 
And  man  and  chief  in  rage  and  grief 

Fretted  and  consumed  away. 

VIII. 

Then  to  Sacrifice  anew  : 

And  again  within  the  bleeding 
Volume  of  the  Future  reading, 

Once  again  the  summoned  Seer 
Evil,  Evil,  still  fore-drew. 


AGAMEMNON.  17 

Day  by  day,  delay,  decay 

To  ship  and  tackle,  chief  and  crew  : 

And  but  one  way — one  only  way  to  appease 

The  Goddess,  and  the  wind  of  wrath  subdue ; 

One  way  of  cure  so  worse  than  the  disease, 
As,  but  to  hear  propound, 

The  Princes  struck  their  sceptres  to  the  ground. 

IX. 

After  a  death-deep  pause, 
The  Lord  of  man  and  armament  his  voice 
Lifted  into  the  silence — "  Terrible  choice  ! 
"  To  base  imprisonment  of  wind  and  flood 

"  Whether  consign  and  sacrifice  the  band 
"  Of  heroes  gathered  in  my  name  and  cause  ; 
"  Or  thence  redeem  them  by  a  daughter's  blood  — 

"  A  daughter's  blood  shed  by  a  father's  hand  ; 
"  Shed  by  a  father's  hand,  and  to  atone 

"The  guilt  of  One  —  who,  could  the  God  endure 

"  Propitiation  by  the  Life  impure, 
"  Should  wash  out  her  transgression  with  her  own." 

X. 

But,  breaking  on  that  iron  multitude, 

The  Father's  cry  no  kindred  echo  woke  : 

And  in  the  sullen  silence  that  ensued 
An  unrelenting  iron  answer  spoke. 


178  AGAMEMNON. 

XI. 

At  last  his  neck  to  that  unnatural  yoke 
He  bowed  :  his  hand  to  that  unnatural  stroke : 
With  growing  purpose,  obstinate  as  the  wind 
That  block'd  his  fleet,  so  block'd  his  better  mind, 
To  all  the  Father's  heart  within  him  blind  — 
For  thus  it  fares  with  men  ;   the  seed 
Of  Evil,  sown  by  seeming  Need, 
Grows,  self-infatuation-nurst, 
From  evil  Thought  to  evil  Deed, 
Incomprehensible  at  first, 
And  to  the  end  of  Life  accurst. 


XII. 

And  thus,  the  blood  of  that  one  innocent 
Weigh'd  light  against  one  great  accomplishment, 
At  last  —  at  last — in  the  meridian  blaze 
Of  Day,  with  all  the  Gods  in  Heaven  agaze, 
And  armed  Greece  below  —  he  came  to  dare- 
After  due  preparation,  pomp,  and  prayer, 
He  came  —  the  wretched  father  —  came  to  dare  — 

Himself — with  sacrificial  knife  in  hand, — 

Before  the  sacrificial  altar  stand, 
To  which  —  her  sweet  lips,  sweetly  wont  to  sing 

Before  him  in  the  banquet-chamber,  gagg'd, 
Lest  one  ill  word  should  mar  the  impious  thing; 


AflAMEMXON.  179 

Her  saffron  scarf  about  her  fluttering, 

Dumb  as  an  all-but-speaking  picture,  dragg'd 
Through  the  remorseless  soldiery  — 

But  soft!  — 

While  I  tell  the  more  than  oft- 
Told  Story,  best  in  silence  found, 

Incense-breathing  fires  aloft 
Up  into  the  rising  fire, 
.Into  which  the  stars  expire, 

Of  Morning  mingle  ;  and  a  sound 
As  of  Rumour  at  the  heel 

Of  some  great  tiding  gathers  ground  ; 
And  from  portals  that  disclose 
Before  a  fragrant  air  that  blows 
Them  open,  what  great  matter,  Sirs, 
Thus  early  Clytemnestra  stirs, 
Hither  through  the  palace  gate 
Torch  in  hand,  and  step-elate, 
Advancing,  with  the  kindled  Kyes 
As  of  triumphant  Sacrifice  ? 

CLYTEMNESTRA  :  CHORUS. 

Oh,  Clytemnestra,  my  obeisance 

Salutes  your  coming  footstep,  as  her  right 

Who  rightly  occupies  the  fellow-chair 

Of  that  now  ten  years  widow'd  of  its  Lord. 

But  —  be  it  at  your  pleasure  ask'd,  as  answered  — 


180  AGAMEMNON. 

What  great  occasion,  almost  ere  Night's  self 
Rekindles  into  Morning  from  the  Sun, 
Has  woke  your  Altar-fire  to  Sacrifice  ? 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Oh,  never  yet  did  Night  — 
Night  of  all  Good  the  Mother,  as  men  say, 
Conceive  a  fairer  issue  than  To-day  ! 
Prepare  your  ear,  Old  man,  for  tidings  such 
As  youthful  hope  would  scarce  anticipate. 

CHORUS. 

I  have  prepared  them  for  such  news  as  such 
Preamble  argues. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

What  if  you  be  told  — 

Oh  mighty  sum  in  one  small  figure  cast  !  — 
That  ten-year-toil'd-for  Troy  is  ours  at  last  ? 

CHORUS. 

"If  told!"  —  Once  more!  —  the  word  escap'd  our  ears, 
With  many  a  baffled  rumour  heretofore 
Slipt  down  the  wind  of  wasted  Expectation. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Once  more  then  ;   and  with  unconditional 
Assurance  havin     hit  the  mark  indeed 


AGAMEMNON.  11 

That  Rumour  aimed  at  — Troy,  with  all  the  towers 
Our  burning  vengeance  leaves  aloft,  is  ours. 
Now  speak  I  plainly  ? 

CHORUS. 

Oh  !  to  make  the  tears, 
That  waited  to  bear  witness  in  the  eye, 
Start,  to  convict  our  incredulity  ! 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Oh  blest  conviction  that  enriches  you 
That  lose  the  cause  with  all  the  victory. 

CHORUS. 
Ev'n  so.     But  how  yourself  convinced  before  ? 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 
By  no  less  sure  a  witness  than  the  God. 

CHORUS. 
What,  in  a  dream  ? 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

I  am  not  one  to  trust 
The  vacillating  witnesses  of  Sleep. 


182  AGAMEMNON. 

CHORUS. 

Aye  —  but  as  surely  undeluded  by 

The  waking  Will,  that  what  we  strongly  would 

Imaginates  ? 

CLVTEMNESTRA. 

Aye,  like  a  doting  girl. 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  Clytemnestra,  pardon  mere  Old  Age 
That,  after  so  long  stajving  upon  Hope, 
But  slowly  brooks  his  own  Accomplishment. 
The  Ten-year  war  is  done  then  !     Troy  is  taken  ! 
The  Gods  have  told  you,  and  the  Gods  tell  true  — 
But  —  how  ?  and  when  ? 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Ev'n  with  the  very  birth 
Of  the  good  Night  which  mothers  this  best  Day. 

CHORUS. 

To-day  !  To-night !   but  of  Night's  work  in  Troy 
Who  should  inform  the  scarcely  open'd  ear 
Of  Morn  in  Argos  ? 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Hephaistos,  the  lame  God, 
And  spriteliest  of  mortal  messengers  ; 


AGAMEMNON.  183 

Who,  springing  from  the  bed  of  burning  Troy, 

Hither,  by  fore-devis'd  Intelligence 

Agreed  upon  between  my  Lord  and  me, 

Posted  from  dedicated  Height  to  Height 

The  reach  of  land  and  sea  that  lies  between. 

And,  first  to  catch  him  and  begin  the  game, 

Did  Ida  fire  her  forest-pine,  and,  waving, 

Handed  him  on  to  the  Hermaean  steep 

Of  Lemnos  ;   Lemnos  to  the  summit  of 

Zeus-consecrated  Athos  lifted  ;   whence, 

As  by  the  giant  taken,  so  despatcht, 

The  Torch  of  Conquest,  traversing  the  wide 

^Egaean  with  a  sunbeam-stretching  stride, 

Struck  up  the  drowsy  watchers  on  Makistos  ;  „• 

Who,  flashing  back  the  challenge,  flash'd  it  on 

To  those  who  watch'd  on  the  Messapian  height. 

With  whose  quick-kindling  heather  heap'd  and  fired 

The  meteor-bearded  messenger  refresht, 

Clearing  Asopus  at  a  bound,  struck  fire 

From  old  Kithseron  ;   and,  so  little  tired 

As  waxing  even  wanton  with  the  sport, 

Over  the  sleeping  water  of  Gorgopis 

Sprung  to  the  Rock  of  Corinth  ;   thence  to  the  cliffs 

Which  stare  down  the  Saronic  Gulf,  that  now 

Began  to  shiver  in  the  creeping  Dawn  ; 

Whence,  for  a  moment  on  the  neighbouring  top 

Of  Arachnaeum  lighting,  one  last  bound 


184  AGAMEMNON. 

Brought  him  to  Agamemnon's  battlements. 
By  such  gigantic  strides  in  such  a  Race 
Where  First  and  Last  alike  are  Conquerors, 
Posted  the  travelling  Fire,  whose  Father-light 
Ida  conceived  of  burning  Troy  To-night. 

CHORUS. 

Woman,  your  words  man-metal  ring,  and  strike 
Ev'n  from  the  tuneless  fibre  of  Old  Age 
Such  martial  unison  as  from  the  lips 
Shall  break  into  full  Paean  by  and  by. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Aye,  think — think  —  think,  old  man,  and  in  your  soul 

As  if 't  were  mirror'd  in  your  outward  eye. 

Imagine  what  wild  work  a-doing  there  — 

In  Troy  —  to-night  —  to-day  —  this  moment  —  how 

Harmoniously,  as  in  one  vessel  meet 

Esil  and  Oil,  meet  Triumph  and  Despair, 

Sluiced  by  the  sword  along  the  reeking  street, 

On  which  the  Gods  look  down  from  burning  air. 

Slain,  slaying  —  dying,  dead  —  about  the  dead 

Fighting  to  die  themselves  —  maidens  and  wives 

Lockt  by  the  locks,  with  their  barbarian  young, 

And  torn  away  to  slavery  and  shame 

By  hands  all  reeking  with  their  Champion's  blood. 


AGAMEMNON.  185 

Until,  with  execution  weary,  we 

Fling  down  our  slaughter-satiated  swords, 

To  gorge  ourselves  on  the  unfinisht  feasts 

Of  poor  old  Priam  and  his  sons  ;  and  then, 

Roll'd  on  rich  couches  never  spread  for  us, 

Ev'n  now  our  sleep-besotted  foreheads  turn 

Up  to  the  very  Sun  that  rises  here. 

Such  is  the  lawful  game  of  those  who  win 

Upon  so  just  a  quarrel  —  so  long  fought : 

Provided  always  that,  with  jealous  care, 

Retaliation  wreaking  upon  those 

Who  our  insulted  Gocls  upon  them  drew, 

We  push  not  Riot  to  their  Altar-foot ; 

Remembering,  on  whichever  mortal  side 

Engaged,  the  Gods  are  Gods  in  heav'n  and  earth, 

And  not  to  be  insulted  unaveng'd. 

This  let  us  take  to  heart,  and  keep  in  sight; 

Lest,  having  run  victoriously  thus  far, 

And  turn'd  the  very  pillar  of  our  race, 

Before  we  reach  the  long'd-for  goal  of  Home 

Nemesis  overtake,  or  trip  us  up  ; 

Some  ere  safe  shipp'd  :   or,  launcht  upon  the  foam, 

Ere  touch'd  the  threshold  of  their  native  shore  ; 

Yea,  or  that  reach'd,  the  threshold  of  the  door 

Of  their  own  home  ;   from  whatsoever  corner 

The  jealous  Power  is  ever  on  the  w- atch 

To  compass  arrogant  Prosperity. 


186  AGAMEMNON. 

These  are  a  woman's  words ;  for  men  to  take, 
Or  disregarded  drop  them,  as  they  will ; 
Enough  for  me,  if  having  won  the  stake, 
I  pray  the  Gods  with  us  to  keep  it  still. 

[Exit  CLYTEMNESTRA.] 


CHORUS. 

Oh,  sacred  Night, 
From  whose  unfathomable  breast 
Creative  Order  formed  and  saw 
Chaos  emerging  into  Law  : 
And  now,  committed  with  Eternal  Right, 
Who  didst  with  star-entangled  net  invest 

So  close  the  guilty  City  as  she  slept, 
That  when  the  deadly  fisher  came  to  draw, 
Not  one  of  all  the  guilty  fry  through  crept. 


II. 

Oh,  Nemesis, 

Night's  daughter  !  in  whose  bosoming  abyss 
Secretly  sitting  by  the  Sinner's  sleeve, 
Thou  didst  with  self- confusion  counterweave 
Mis  plot ;   and  when  the  fool  his  arrow  sped, 

Thine  after-shot  didst  only  not  dismiss 
Till  certain  not  to  miss  the     uilt     head. 


AGAMEMNON.  187 

III. 

Some  think  the  Godhead,  couching  at  his  ease 
Deep  in  the  purple  Heav'ns,  serenely  sees 
Insult  the  altar  of  Eternal  Right. 

Fools  !  for  though  Fortune  seems  to  misrequite, 
And  Retribution  for  awhile  forget ; 
Sooner  or  later  she  reclaims  the  debt 
With  usury  that  triples  the  amount 
Of  Nemesis  with  running  Time's  account. 

IV. 
For  soon  or  late  sardonic  Fate 

With  Man  against  himself  conspires  ; 

Puts  on  the  mask  of  his  desire's  : 
Up  the  steps  of  Time  elate 
Leads  him  blinded  with  his  pride, 
And  gathering  as  he  goes  along 
The  fuel  of  his  suicide  : 
Until  having  topt  the  pyre 
Which  Destiny  permits  no  higher, 
Ambition  sets  himself  on  fire  ; 
In  conflagration  like  the  crime 
Conspicuous  through  the  world  and  time 
Down  amidst  his  brazen  walls 
The  accumulated  Idol  falls 
To  shapeless  ashes  ;   Demigod 
Under  the  vular  hoof  down-trod 


188  AGAMEMNON, 

Whose  neck  he  trod  on  ;  not  an  eye 
To  weep  his  fall,  nor  lip  to  sigh 
For  him  a  prayer  ;  or,  if  there  were, 
No  God  to  listen,  or  reply. 

V. 

And,  as  the  son  his  father's  guilt  may  rue  ; 
And,  by  retort  of  justice,  what  the  son 
Has  sinn'd,  to  ruin  on  the  father  run  ; 

So  may  the  many  help  to  pay  the  due 
Of  guilt,  remotely  implicate  with  one. 

And  as  the  tree  'neath  which  a  felon  cowers, 
With  ajl  its  branch  is  blasted  by  the  bolt 
Of  Justice  launch'd  from  Heav'n  at  his  revolt  ; 

Thus  with  old  Priam,  with  his  Royal  line, 
Kindred  and  people  ;   yea,  the  very  towers 

They  crouch'd  in,  built  by  masonry  divine. 

VI. 
Like  a  dream  through  sleep  she  glided 

Through  the  silent  city  gate, 
By  a  guilty  Hermes  guided 
On  the  feather'  d  feet  of  Theft  ; 
Leaving  between  those  she  left 
And  those  she  fled  to,  lighted  Discord, 

Unextinguishable  Hate  ; 


7K 


AGAMEMNON.  189 

Leaving  him  whom  least  she  should, 
Menelaus  brave  and  good, 
Scarce  believing  in  the  mutter'd 
Rumour,  in  the  worse  than  utter'd 

Omen  of  the  wailing  maidens, 
Of  the  shaken  hoary  head: 
Of  deserted  board  and  bed. 

For  the  phantom  of  the  lost  one 
Haunts  him  in  the  wonted  places  ; 
Hall  and  Chamber,  which  he  paces 
Hither,  Thither,  listening,  looking, 

Phantom-like  himself  alone  ; 
Till  he  comes  to  loathe  the  faces 
Of  the  marble  mute  Colossi, 

Godlike  Forms,  and  half-divine, 

Founders  of  the  Royal  line, 
Who  with  all  unalter'd  Quiet 

Witness  all  and  make  no  sign. 
But  the  silence  of  the  chambers, 

And  the  shaken  hoary  head, 
And  the  voices  of  the  mourning 
Women,  and  of  ocean  wailing, 
Over  which  with  unavailing 
Arms  he  reaches,  as  to  hail 
The  phantom  of  a  flying  sail  — 

All  but  answer,  Fled  !  fled  !  fled  ! 

False  !   clishonour'd  !   worse  than  dead  ! 


190  AGAMEMNON. 

VII. 

At  last  the  sun  goes  down  along  the  bay, 
And  with  him  drags  detested  Day. 
He  sleeps  ;  and,  dream-like  as  she  fled,  beside 
His  pillow,  Dream  indeed,  behold  !  his  Bride 
Once  more  in  more  than  bridal  beauty  stands  ; 
But,  ever  as  he  reaches  forth  his  hands, 
Slips  from  them  back  into  the  viewless  deep, 
On  those  soft  silent  wings  that  walk  the  ways  of 
sleep. 

VIII. 
Not  beside  thee  in  the  chamber, 

Mcnelaus,  any  more  ; 
But  with  him  she  fled  with,  pillow'd 
On  the  summer  softly-billow'd 
Ocean,  into  dimple  wreathing 

Underneath  a  breeze  of  amber 
Air  that,  as  from  Eros  breathing, 

Fill'd  the  sail  and  flew  before  ; 
Floating  on  the  summer  seas 
Like  some  sweet  Effigies 
Of  Eirenc's  self,  or  sweeter 
Aphrodite,  sweeter  still  : 
With  the  Shepherd,  from  whose  luckless 

Hand  upon  the  Phrygian  hill, 
Of  the  three  Immortals,  She 


AGAMEMNON.  191 

The  fatal  prize  of  Beauty  bore, 
Floating  with  him  o'er  the  foam 
She  rose  from,  to  the  shepherd's  home 

On  the  Ionian  shore. 

IX. 

Down  from  the  City  to  the  water-side 
Old  Priam,  with  his  princely  retinue, 
By  many  a  wondering  Phrygian  follow'd,  drew 

To  welcome  and  bear  in  the  Goddess-bride 
Whom  some  propitious  wind  of  Fortune  blew 

From  whence  they  knew  not  o'er  the  waters  wide 

Among  the  Trojan  people  to  abide 

A  pledge  of  Love  and  Joy  for  ever  —  Yes  ; 

As  one  who  drawing  from  the  leopardess 

Her  suckling  cub,  and,  fascinated  by 

The  little  Savage  of  the  lustrous  eye, 

Bears  home,  for  all  to  fondle  and  caress, 

And  be  the  very  darling  of  the  house 

It  makes  a  den  of  blood  of,  by  and  by. 

x. 

For  the  wind,  that  amber  blew, 
Tempest  in  its  bosom  drew  ; 

Soon  began  to  hiss  and  roar ; 
And  the  sweet  Effigies 


192  AGAMEMNON. 

That  amber  breeze  and  summer  seas 
Had  wafted  to  the  Ionian  shore, 
By  swift  metamorphosis 

Turn'd  into  some  hideous,  hated, 

Fury  of  Revenge,  and  fated 
Hierophant  of  Nemesis  ; 
Who,  growing  with  the  day  and  hour, 
Grasp'd  the  wall,  and  topp'd  the  tower, 
And,  when  the  time  came,  by  its  throat 
The  victim  City  seized,  and  smote. 

XL 

But  now  to  be  resolv'd,  whether  indeed 

Those  fires  of  Night  spoke  truly,  or  mistold 
To  cheat  a  doting  woman  ;  for,  Behold, 
Advancing  from  the  shore  with  solemn  speed, 

A  Herald  from  the  Fleet,  his  footsteps  roll'd 
In  dust,  Haste's  thirsty  consort,  but  his  brow 
Check-shadow'd  with  the  nodding  Olive-bough 
Who  shall  interpret  us  the  speechless  sign 
Of  the  fork'd  tongue  that  preys  upon  the  pine. 

HERALD  :   CHORUS. 

Oh,  Fatherland  of  Argos,  back  to  whom 
After  ten  years  do  1  indeed  return 
Under  the  dawn  of  this  auspicious  day  ! 
Of  all  the  parted  anchors  of  lost  Hope 


AGAMEMNON.  193 

That  this,  depended  least  on,  yet  should  hold  ; 
Amid  so  many  men  to  me  so  dear 
About  me  dying,  yet  myself  exempt 
Return  to  live  what  yet  of  life  remains 
Among  my  own  ;  among  my  own  at  last 
To  share  the  blest  communion  of  the  Dead  ! 
Oh,  welcome,  welcome,  welcome  once  again 
.  My  own  dear  Country  and  the  light  she  draws 
From  the  benignant  Heav'ns  ;  and  all  the  Gods 
Who  guard  her;  Zeus  Protector  first  of  all ; 
And  Phcebus,  by  this  all- restoring  dawn 
Who  heals  the  wounds  his  arrows  dealt  so  fast 
Beside  Scamander ;    and  not  last  nor  least 
Among  the  Powers  engaged  upon  our  side, 
Hermes,  the  Herald's  Patron,  and  his  Pride; 
Who,  having  brought  me  safely  through  the  war, 
Now  brings  me  back  to  tell  the  victory 
Into  my  own  beloved  country's  ear  ; 
Who,  all  the  more  by  us,  the  more  away, 
Beloved,  will  greet  with  Welcome  no  less  dear 
This  remnant  of  the  unremorseful  spear. 
And,  oh,  you  Temples,  Palaces,  and  throned 
Colossi,  that  affront  the  rising  sun, 
If  ever  yet,  your  marble  foreheads  now 
Bathe  in  the  splendour  of  returning  Day 
To  welcome  back  your  so  long  absent  Lord  ; 
Who  by  Zeus'  self  directed  to  the  spot 


194  AGAMEMNON. 

Of  Vengeance,  and  the  special  instrument 
Of  Retribution  put  into  his  hands, 
Has  undermined,  uprooted,  and  destroy'd, 
Till  scarce  one  stone  upon  another  stands, 
The  famous  Citadel,  that,  deeply  cast 
For  crime,  has  all  the  forfeit  paid  at  last. 

CHORUS. 

Oh  hail  and  welcome,  Herald  of  good  news  ! 
Welcome  and  hail !   and  doubt  not  thy  return 
As  dear  to  us  as  thee. 

HERALD. 

To  me  so  dear, 

After  so  long  despaired  of,  that,  for  fear 
Life's  after-draught  the  present  should  belie, 
One  might  implore  the  Gods  ev'n  now  to  die  ! 

CHORUS. 
Oh,  your  soul  hunger'd  after  home  ! 

HERALD. 

So  sore, 

That  sudden  satisfaction  of  once  more 
Return  weeps  out  its  surfeit  at  my  eyes. 


AGAMEMNON.  195 

CHORUS. 

And  our's,  you  see,  contagiously,  no  less 
The  same  long  grief,  and  sudden  joy,  confess. 

HERALD. 

What !   Argos  for  her  missing  children  yearned 
As  they  for  her,  then  ? 

CHORUS. 

Aye  ;  perhaps  and  more, 
Already  pining  with  an  inward  sore. 

HERALD. 

How  so  ? 

CHORUS. 

Nay,  Silence,  that  has  best  endured 
The  pain,  may  best  dismiss  the  memory. 

HERALD. 

Ev'n  so.      For  who,  unless  the  God  himself, 
Expects  to  live  his  life  without  a  flaw  ? 
Why,  once  begin  to  open  that  account, 
Might  not  we  tell  for  ten  good  years  to  come 
Of  all  we  suffer'd  in  the  ten  gone  by  ? 
Not  the  mere  course  and  casual!}'  of  war, 
Alarum,  March,  Battle,  and  such  hard  knocks 


,~. 


196  AGAMEMNON. 

As  foe  with  foe  expects  to  give  and  take  ; 

But  all  the  complement  of  miseries 

That  go  to  swell  a  long  campaign's  account. 

Cramm'd    close    aboard    the    ships,    hard    bed,    hard 

board  : 

Or  worse,  perhaps,  while  foraging  ashore 
In  winter  time  ;   when,  if  not  from  the  walls, 
Pelted  from  Heav'n  by  Day,  to  couch  by  Night 
Between  the  falling  dews  and  rising  damps 
That  elf  d  the  locks,  and  set  the  body  fast 
With  cramp  and  ague  ;   or,  to  mend  the  matter, 
Good  mother  Ida  from  her  winter  top 
Flinging  us  down  a  coverlet  of  snow. 
Or  worst,  perhaps,  in  Summer,  toiling  in 
The  bloody  harvest- field  of  torrid  sand, 
When  not  an  air  stirr'd  the  fierce  Asian  noon, 
And  ev'n  the  sea  sleep-sicken'd  in  his  bed. 
But  why  lament  the  Past,  as  past  it  is  ? 
If  idle  for  the  Dead  who  feel  no  more, 
Idler  for  us  to  whom  this  blissful  Dawn 
Shines  doubly  bright  against  the  stormy  Past ; 
Who,  after  such  predicament  and  toil. 
Boast,  once  more  standing  on  our  mother  soil, 

That  Zeus,  who  sent  us  to  revenge  the  crime 
Upon  the  guilt}'  people,  now  recalls 
To  hang  their  trophies  on  our  temple  walls 

For  monumental  heir-looms  to  all  time. 


AGAMEMNON.  197 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  but  Old  age,  however  slow  to  learn, 
Not  slow  to  learn,  nor  after  you  repeat, 
Lesson  so  welcome,  Herald  of  the  Fleet ! 
But  here  is  Clytemnestra ;   be  you  first 
To  bless  her  ears,  as  mine,  with  news  so  sweet. 

CLYTEMNESTRA  :  HERALD  :  CHORUS. 

I  sang  my  Song  of  Triumph  ere  he  came. 

Alone  I  sang  it  while  the  City  slept, 

And  these  wise  Senators,  with  winking  eyes, 

Look'd  grave,  and  weigh'd  mistrustfully  my  word, 

As  the  light  coinage  of  a  woman's  brain. 

And  so  they  went  their  way.      But  not  the  less 

From  those  false  fires  I  lit  my  altar  up, 

And,  woman-wise,  held  on  my  song,  until 

The  City  taking  up  the  note  from  me, 

Scarce  knowing  why,  about  that  altar  flock'd, 

Where,  like  the  Priest  of  Victor}',  I  stood, 

Torch-handed,  drenching  in  triumphant  wine 

The  flame  that  from  the  smouldering  incense  rose. 

Now  what  more  needs  ?     This  Herald  of  the  Day 

Adds  but  another  witness  to  the  Night ; 

And  I  will  hear  no  more  from  other  lips. 

Till  from  my  husband  Agamemnon  all, 

Whom  with  all  honour  I  prepare  to  meet. 


198  AGAMEMNON. 

Oh,  to  a  loyal  woman  what  so  sweet 

As  once  more  wide  the  gate  of  welcome  fling 

To  the  lov'd  Husband  whom  the  Gods  once  more 
After  long  travail  home  triumphant  bring ; 

Where  he  shall  find  her,  as  he  left  before, 

Fixt  like  a  trusty  watchdog  at  the  door, 

Tractable  him-ward,-  but  inveterate 

Against  the  doubtful  stranger  at  the  gate  ; 
And  not  a  seal  within  the  house  but  still 

Inviolate,  under  a  woman's  trust 

Incapable  of  taint  as  gold  of  rust. 

\_Exit  CLYTEMNESTRA. 

HERALD  :  CHORUS. 
A  boast  not  misbeseeming  a  true  woman. 

CHORUS. 

For  then  no  boast  at  all.      But  she  says  well ; 
And  Time  interprets  all.      Enough  for  us 
To  praise  the  Gods  for  Agamemnon's  safe, 
And  more  than  safe  return.      And  Menelaus, 
The  other  half  of  Argos  —  What  of  him  ? 

HERALD. 

Those  that  I  most  would  gladden  with  good  news, 
And  on  a  day  like  this  —  with  fair  but  false 
I  dare  not. 

/  v  jjf 

*«-  — «" 


AGAMEMNON.  199 

CHORUS. 
What,  must  fair  then  needs  be  false  ? 

HERALD. 

Old  man,  the  Gods  grant  somewhat,  and  withhold 
As  seems  them  good  :   a  time  there  is  for  Praise, 
A  time  for  Supplication  :    nor  is  it  well 
To  twit  the  celebration  of  their  largess, 
Reminding  them  of  something  they  withhold. 

CHORUS. 

Yet  till  we  know  how  much  withheld  or  granted, 
We  know  not  how  the  balance  to  adjust 
Of  Supplication  or  of  Praise. 

* 

HERALD. 

Alas, 

The  Herald  who  returns  with  downcast  eyes, 
And  leafless  brow  prophetic  of  Reverse, 
Let  him  at  once  —  at  once  let  him,  I  say, 
Lay  the  whole  burden  of  Ill-tidings  down 
In  the  mid-market  place.      But  why  should  one 
Returning  with  the  garland  on  his  brow- 
Be  stopt  to  name  the  single  missing  leaf 
Of  which  the  Gods  have  stinted  us  ! 


200  AGAMEMNON. 

CHORUS. 

Alas, 

The  putting  of  a  fearful  question  by 
Is  but  to  ill  conjecture  worse  reply  ! 
You  bring  not  back  then  —  do  not  leave  behind  — 
What  Menelaus  was  ? 

HERALD. 

The  Gods  forbid  ! 
Safe  shipp'd  with  all  the  host. 

CHORUS. 

Well,  but  —  how  then  ? 


Surely  no  tempest  — 


HERALD. 


Ay  !   by  that  one  word 
Hitting  the  centre  of  a  boundless  sorrow  ! 

CHORUS. 

\Vell,  but  if  peradventure  from  the  fleet 
Paited  —  not  lost? 

HERALD. 

None  but  the  eye  of  Day, 

Now  woke,  knows  all  the  havoc  of  the  Night. 
For  Night  it  was;   all  safe  aboard  —  sail  set, 


AGAMEMNON.  201 

And  oars  all  beating  home ;  when  suddenly, 

As  if  those  old  antagonists  had  sworn 

New  strife  between  themselves  for  our  destruction, 

The  sea,  that  tamely  let  us  mount  his  back, 

Began  to  roar  and  plunge  under  a  lash 

Of  tempest  from  the  thundering  heavens  so  fierce 

As,  falling  on  our  fluttering  navy,  some 

Scatter'd,  or  whirl'd  away  like  flakes  of  foam  : 

Or,  huddling  wave  on  wave,  so  ship  on  ship 

Like  fighting  eagles  on  each  other  fell, 

And  beak,  and  wing,  and  claws,  entangled,  tore 

To  pieces  one  another,  or  dragg'd  down. 

So  when  at  last  the  tardy-rising  Sun 

Survey'd,  and  show'd,  the  havoc  Night  had  done, 

We,  whom  some  God  —  or  Fortune's  self,  I  think  — 

Seizing  the  helm,  had  steer'd  as  man  could  not, 

Beheld  the  waste  /Egaean  wilderness 

Strown  with  the  shatter'd  forest  of  the  fleet, 

Trunk,  branch,  and  foliage  ;   and  yet  worse,  I  ween, 

The  flower  of  Argos  floating  dead  between. 

Then  we,  scarce  trusting  in  our  own  escape, 

And  saving  such  as  yet  had  life  to  save, 

Along  the  heaving  wilderness  of  wave 

Went  ruminating,  who  of  those  we  miss'd 

Might  yet  survive,  who  lost:   the  saved  no  doubt, 

As  sadly  speculating  after  us. 

Of  whom,  if  Menelaus — and  the  Sun, 


202  A  G  A  M  E  31  N  O  X . 

(A  prayer  which  all  the  Gods  in  Heav'n  fulfil ! ) 
Behold  him  on  the  water  breathing  still ; 
Doubt  not  that  Zeus,  under  whose  special  showers 
And  suns  the  royal  growth  of  Atreus  towers, 
Will  not  let  perish  stem,  and  branch,  and  fruit, 
By  loss  of  one  corroborating  root. 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  Helen,  Helen,  Helen  !   oh,  fair  name 
And  fatal,  of  the  fatal-fairest  dame 

That  ever  blest  or  blinded  human  eyes  ! 
Of  mortal  women  Queen  beyond  compare, 

As  she  whom  the  foam  lifted  to  the  skies 
Is  Queen  of  all  who  breathe  immortal  air  ! 

Whoever,  and  from  whatsoever  wells 

Of  Divination,  drew  the  syllables 
By  which  we  name  thee ;   who  shall  ever  dare 
In  after  time  the  fatal  name  to  wear, 
Or  would,  to  be  so  fatal,  be  so  fair  ! 
Whose  dowry  was  a  Husband's  shame  ; 
Whose  nuptial  torch  was  Troy  in  flame  ; 
Whose  bridal  Chorus,  groans  and  cries  ; 
Whose  banquet,  brave  men's  obsequies  ; 
Whose  Hymeneal  retinue, 
The  winged  clogs  of  War  that  flew 
Over  lands  and  over  seas. 
Following  the  tainted  breeze, 


^ 


AGAMEMNON.  203 

Till,  Scamander  reed  among, 
Their  fiery  breath  and  bloody  tongue 
The  fatal  quarry  found  and  slew  ; 
And,  having  done  the  work  to  which 
The  God  himself  halloo'd  them,  back 
Return  a  maim'd  and  scatter'd  pack. 

II. 

And  he  for  whose  especial  cause 

Zeus  his  winged  instrument 
With  the  lightning  in  his  claws 

From  the  throne  of  thunder  sent : 
He  for  whom  the  sword  was  drawn  : 
Mountain  ashes  fell'd  and  sawn  ; 

And  the  armed  host  of  Hellas 
Cramm'd  within  them,  to  discharge 
On  the  shore  to  bleed  at  large  ; 
He,  in  mid  accomplishment 
Of  Justice,  from  his  glory  rent ! 
What  ten  years  had  hardly  won, 
In  a  single  night  undone  ; 
And  on  earth  what  saved  and  gain'd, 
By  the  raven  sea  distrain'd. 

III. 

Such  is  the  sorrow  of  this  royal  house  ; 
But  none  in  all  the  City  but  forlorn 


204  AGAMEMNON. 

Under  its  own  peculiar  sorrow  bows. 

For  the  stern  God  who,  deaf  to  human  love, 

Grudges  the  least  abridgment  of  the  tale 
Of  human  blood  once  pledg'd  to  him,  above 
The  centre  of  the  murder-dealing  crowd 

Suspends  in  air  his  sanguinary  scale  ; 
And  for  the  blooming  Hero  gone  a-field 

Homeward  remits  a  beggarly  return 
Of  empty  helmet,  fallen  sword  and  shield, 

And  some  light  ashes  in  a  little  urn. 

IV. 

Then  wild  and  high  goes  up  the  cry 

To  heav'n,  "So  true  !   so  brave  !   so  fair  ! 

"  The  young  colt  of  the  flowing  hair 

"  And  flaming  eye,  and  now  —  look  there  ! 

"  Ashes  and  arms  !  "  or,  "  Left  behind 

"  Unburied,  in  the  sun  and  wind 

"To  wither,  or  become  the  feast 

"  Of  bird  obscene,  or  unclean  beast ; 

"  The  good,  the  brave,  without  a  grave  — 

"  All  to  redeem  her  from  the  shame 

"  To  which  she  sold  herself  and  name  !  " 

.For  such  insinuation  in  the  dark 

About  the  City  travels  like  a  spark  ; 

Till  the  pent  tempest  into  lightning  breaks, 
And  takes  the  topmost  pinnacle  for  mark. 


AGAMEMNON.  205 

V. 

But  avaunt  all  evil  omen  ! 

Perish  many,  so  the  State 

They  die  for  live  inviolate  ; 
Which,  were  all  her  mortal  leafage 

In  the  blast  of  Ares  scatter'd, 

So  herself  at  heart  unshatter'd. 
In  due  season  she  retrieves 
All  her  wasted  wealth  of  leaves, 
And  age  on  age  shall  spread  and  rise 
To  cover  earth  and  breathe  the  skies. 
While  the  rival  at  her  side 
Who  the  wrath  of  Heav'n  defied, 
By  the  lashing  blast,  or  flashing 
Bolt  of  Heav'n  comes  thunder-crashing, 
Top  and  lop,  and  trunk  and  bough, 
Down,  for  ever  down.      And  now, 
He  to  whom  the  Zeus  of  Vengeance 

Did  commit  the  bolt  of  Fate  — 
Agamemnon  —  how  shall  I 
With  a  Paean  not  too  high 

For  mortal  glory,  to  provoke 

• 

From  the  Gods  a  counter-stroke, 
Xor  below  desert  so  loft}', 

Suitably  felicitate  ? 
Such  as  chastcn'd  Age  for  due 
May  give,  and  Manhood  take  for  true. 


206  A  O  A  M  E  M  X  O  X . 

For,  as  many  men  comply 

From  founts  no  deeper  than  the  eye 

With  other's  sorrows  ;  many  more, 
With  a  Welcome  from  the  lips, 
That  far  the  halting  heart  outstrips, 

Fortune's  Idol  fall  before. 
Son  of  Atreus,  I  premise, 

When  at  first  the  means  and  manhood 
Of  the  cities  thou  didst  stake 
For  a  wanton  woman's  sake, 

I  might  grudge  the  sacrifice ; 

But,  the  warfare  once  begun, 
Hardly  fought  and  hardly  won, 
Now  from  Glory's  overflowing 
Horn  of  Welcome  all  her  glowing 

Honours,  and  with  uninvidious 
Hand,  before  your  advent  throwing, 
I  salute,  and  bid  thee  welcome, 
Son  of  Atreus,  Agamemnon, 
Zeus'  revenging  Right-hand,  Lord 

Of  taken  Troy  and  righted  Greece  : 
Bid  thee  from  the  roving  throne 

Of  War  the  reeking  steed  release  ; 
Leave  the  laurel'd  ship  to  ride 
Anchor'd  in  her  country's  side, 
And  resume  the  royal  helm 
Of  thv  lone-abandon'd  realm  : 


AGAMEMNON.  207 

What  about  the  State  or  Throne 
Of  good  or  evil  since  has  grown, 

Alter,  cancel,  or  complete  ; 
And  to  well  or  evil-doer, 

Even-handed  Justice  mete. 

Enter  AGAMEMNON   in  his  chariot,  CASSANDRA  fol- 
lowing in  another. 

AGAMEMNON. 

First,  as  first  due,  my  Country  I  salute, 

And  all  her  tutelary  Gods  ;   all  those 

Who,  having  sent  me  forth,  now  bring  me  back, 

After  full  retribution  wrought  on  those 

Who  retribution  owed  us,  and  the  Gods 

In  full  consistory  determined;    each, 

With  scarce  a  swerving  eye  to  Mercy's  side, 

Dropping  his  vote  into  the  urn  of  blood. 

Caught  and  consuming  in  whose  fiery  wrath. 

The  stately  City,  from  her  panting  ashes 

Into  the  face  of  the  revolted  heavens 

Gusts  of  expiring  opulence  puffs  up.1 

For  which,  I  say,  the  Gods  alone  be  thank'd  ; 

By  whose  connivance  round  about  the  wall 

We  drew  the  belt  of  Ares,  and  laid  bare 


208  AGAMEMNON. 

The  flank  of  Ilium  to  the  Lion-horse,1 
Who  sprung  by  night  over  the  city  wall, 
And  foaled  his  iron  progeny  within, 
About  the  setting  of  the  Pleiades.2 
Thus  much  by  way  of  prelude  to  the  Gods. 
For  you,  oh  white-hair'd  senators  of  Argos, 
Your  measur'd  Welcome  I  receive  for  just; 
Aware  on  what  a  tickle  base  of  fortune 
The  monument  of  human  Glory  stands  ; 
And,  for  humane  congratulation,  knowing 
How,  smile  as  may  the  mask,  the  man  behind 
Frets  at  the  fortune  that  degrades  his  own. 
This,  having  heard  of  from  the  wise,  myself, 
From  long  experience  in  the  ways  of  men, 
Can  vouch  for  —  what  a  shadow  of  a  shade 
Is  human  loyalty  ;   and,  as  a  proof, 
Of  all  the  Host  that  filled  the  Grecian  ship, 
And  pour'cl  at  large  along  the  field  of  Troy, 
One  only  Chief  —  and  he,  too,  like  yourself, 
At  first  with  little  stomach  for  the  cause  — 
The  wise  Odysseus  —  once  in  harness,  he 
With  all  his  might  pull'd  in  the  yoke  with  me, 

l  Dr.  Donaldson  tells  us  in  his  Varronianus  (says  Paley)  that  the 
Lion  was  the  symbol  of  the  Atretdrc;  and  Pausanias  writes  that  part 
of  the  ancient  walls  of  Mycenae  was  \et  standing  in  his  day,  and  Lions 
on  the  gate.  Wordsworth's  Athens  says  the  Lion  wns  often  set  up 
to  commemorate  a  victory. 

-  ''About  the  settin     of  the  1'leiades/'  is  about  the  end  of  Autumn. 


> 


AGAMEMNON.  209 

Through  envy,  obloquy,  and  opposition  : 
And  in  Odysseus'  honour,  live  or  dead  — 
For  yet  we  know  not  which  —  shall  this  be  said. 
Of  which  enough.      For  other  things  of  moment 
To  which  you  point,  or  human  or  divine, 
We  shall  forthwith  consider  and  adjudge 
In  seasonable  council;   what  is  well, 
Or  in  our  absence  well  deserving,  well 
Kstablish  and  requite  ;   what  not,  redress 
With  salutary  caution  ;   or,  if  need, 
With  the  sharp  edge  of  Justice;   and  to  health 
Restore,  and  right,  our  ailing  Commonwealth. 
Now,  first  of  all,  by  my  own  altar-hearth 
To  thank  the  Gods  for  my  return,  and  pray 
That  Victory,  which  thus  far  by  my  side 
Has  flown  with  us,  with  us  may  still  abide. 

Enter  CLYTEMNESTRA  from  the  Palace. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Oh  Men  of  Argos,  count  it  not  a  shame 

If  a  fond  wife,  and  one  whom  riper  years 

From  Youth's  becoming  bashfulness  excuse, 

Dares  own  her  love  before  the  face  of  men  ; 

Nor  leaving  it  for  others  to  enhance, 

Simply  declares  the  wretched  widowhood 

Which  these  ten  years  she  has  endured,  since  first 


* 


210  AGAMEMNON. 

Her  husband  Agamemnon  went  to  Troy. 

T  is  no  light  matter,  let  me  tell  you",  Sirs, 

A  woman  left  in  charge  of  house  and  home  — 

And  when  that  house  and  home  a  Kingdom  —  and 

She  left  alone  to  rule  it  —  and  ten  years  ! 

Beside  dissent  and  discontent  at  home, 

Storm'd  from  abroad  with  contrary  reports, 

Now  fair,  now  foul  ;  but  still  as  time  wore  on 

Growing  more  desperate  ;  as  dangerous 

Unto  the  widow'd  kingdom  as  herself. 

Why,  had  my  husband  there  but  half  the  wounds 

Fame  stabbed  him  with,  he  were  before  me  now, 

Not  the  whole  man  we  see  him,  but  a  body 

Gash'd  into  network  ;   aye,  or  had  he  died 

But  half  as  often  as  Report  gave  out, 

He  would  have  needed  thrice  the  cloak  of  earth 

To  cover  him,  that  triple  Geryon 

Lies  buried  under  in  the  world  below. 

Thus,  back  and  forward  baffled,  and  at  last 

So  desperate  —  that,  if  I  be  here  alive 

To  tell  the  tale,  no  thanks  to  me  for  that, 

Whose  hands  had  twisted  round  my  neck  the  noose 

Which  others  loosen'd  —  my  Orestes  too 

In  whose  expanding  manhood  day  by  day 

My  Husband  I  perused  —  and,  by  the  way, 

Whom  wonder  not,  my  Lord,  not  seeing  here  ; 

My  simple  mother- love,  and  jealousy 


AGAMEMNON.  211 

Of  civic  treason  —  ever  as  you  know, 

Most  apt  to  kindle  when  the  lord  away  — 

Having  bestow'd  him,  out  of  danger's  reach, 

With  Strophius  of  Phocis,  wholly  yours 

Bound  by  the  generous  usages  of  war, 

That  make  the  once-won  foe  so  fast  a  friend. 

Thus,  widow'd  of  my  son  as  of  his  sire, 

No  wonder  if  I  wept  —  not  drops,  but  showers, 

The  ten  years'  night  through  which  I  watch'd  in  vain 

The  star  that  was  to  bring  him  back  to  me ; 

Or,  if  I  slept,  a  sleep  so  thin  as  scared 

Even  at  the  slight  incursion  of  the  gnat ; 

And  yet  more  thick  with  visionary  terrors 

Than  thrice  the  waking  while  had  occupied. 

Well,  I  have  borne  all  this  :  all  this  have  borne, 

Without  a  grudge  against  the  wanderer 

Whose  now  return  makes  more  than  rich  amends 

For  all  ungrateful  absence  —  Agamemnon, 

My  Lord  and  Husband  ;   Lord  of  Argos  ;  Troy's 

Confounder  ;   Mainstay  of  the  realm  of  Greece  ; 

And  Master-column  of  the  house  of  Atreus  — 

Oh  wonder  not  if  I  accumulate 

All  honour  and  endearment  on  his  head  ! 

If  to  his  country,  how  much  more  to  me, 

Welcome,  as  land  to  sailors  long  at  sea, 

Or  water  in  the  desert  ;   whose  return 

Is  fire  to  the  forsaken  winter-hearth  ; 


212  AGAMEMNON. 

Whose  presence,  like  the  rooted  Household  Tree 

That,  winter-dead  so  long,  anew  puts  forth 

To  shield  us  from  the  Dogstar,  what  time  Zeus 

Wrings  the  tart  vintage  into  blissful  juice. 

Down  from  the  chariot  thou  standest  in, 

Crown'd  with  the  flaming  towers  of  Troy,  descend, 

And  to  this  palace,  rich  indeed  with  thee, 

But  beggar-poor  without,  return  !      And  ye, 

My  women,  carpet  all  the  way  before, 

From  the  triumphal  carriage  to  the  door, 

With  all  the  gold  and  purple  in  the  chest 

Stor'd  these  ten  years  ;  and  to  what  purpose  stor'd, 
Unless  to  strow  the  footsteps  of  their  Lord 
Returning  to  his  unexpected  rest  ! 

AGAMEMNON. 

Daughter  of  Leda,  Mistress  of  my  house, 

Beware  lest  loving  Welcome  of  your  Lord, 

Measuring  itself  by  his  protracted  absence, 

Exceed  the  bound  of  rightful  compliment, 

And  better  left  to  other  lips  than  yours. 

Address  me  not,  address  me  not,  I  say 

With  dust-adoring  adulation,  meeter 

For  some  barbarian  Despot  from  his  slave  ; 

Nor  with  invidious  Purple  strew  my  way, 

Fit  only  for  the  footstep  of  a  God 

Lihtin     from  Heav'n  to  earth.      Let  whoso  \vitt 


AGAMEMNON.  213 

Trample  their  glories  underfoot,  not  I. 
Woman,  I  charge  you,  honour  me  no  more 
Than  as  the  man  I  am;   if  honour- worth, 
Needing  no  other  trapping  but  the  fame 
Of  the  good  deed  I  clothe  myself  withal ; 
And  knowing  that,  of  all  their  gifts  to  man, 
No  greater  gift  than  Self-sobriety 
The  Gods  vouchsafe  him  in  the  race  of  life  : 
Which,  after  thus  far  running,  if  I  reach 
The  goal  in  peace,  it  shall  be  well  for  me. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Why,  how  think  you  old  Priam  would  have  walk'd 
Had  he  return'd  to  Troy  your  conqueror, 
As  you  to  Hellas  his  ? 

AGAMEMNON. 

What  then  ?   Perhaps 
Voluptuary  Asiatic-like, 
On  gold  and  purple. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Well,  and  grudging  this, 

When  all  that  out  before  your  footstep  flows 
Ebbs  back  into  the  treasury  again  ; 
Think  how  much  more,  had  Fate  the  tables  turn'd, 
Irrevocably  from  those  coffers  gone, 


214  AGAMEMNON. 

For  those  barbarian  feet  to  walk  upon, 
To  buy  your  ransom  back  ? 

AGAMEMNON. 

Enough,  enough ! 
I  know  my  reason. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

What !  the  jealous  God  ? 
Or,  peradventure,  yet  more  envious  Man  ? 

AGAMEMNON. 
And  that  of  no  small  moment. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

No  ;   the  one 
Sure  proof  of  having  won  what  others  would. 

AGAMEMNON. 
No  matter  —  Strife  but  ill  becomes  a  woman. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

And  frank  submission  to  her  simple  wish 
How  well  becomes  the  Soldier  in  his  strength  ? 

AGAMEMNON. 
And  I  must  then  submit  ? 


AGAMEMNON.  215 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Aye,  Agamemnon, 

* 

Deny  me  not  this  first  Desire  on  this 
First  Morning  of  your  long-desired  Return. 

AGAMEMNON. 

But  not  till  I  have  put  these  sandals  off, 

That,  slave-like,  too  officiously  would  pander 

Between  the  purple  and  my  dainty  feet. 

For  fear,  for  fear  indeed,  some  Jealous  eye 

From  heav'n  above,  or  earth  below,  should  strike 

The  Man  who  walks  the  earth  Immortal-like. 

So  much  for  that.      For  this  same  royal  maid, 

Cassandra,  daughter  of  King  Priamus, 

And  whom,  as  flower  of  all  the  spoil  of  Troy, 

The  host  of  Hellas  dedicates  to  me  ; 

Entreat  her  gently;  knowing  well  that  none 

But  submit  hardly  to  a  foreign  yoke ; 

And  those  of  Royal  blood  most  hardly  broke. 

That  if  I  sin  thus  trampling  underfoot 

A  woof  in  which  the  Heav'ns  themselves  are  dyed, 
The  jealous  God  may  less  resent  his  crime, 

Who  mingles  human  mercy  with  his  pride. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

The  Sea  there  is,  and  shall  the  sea  be  dried  ? 
Fount  inexhaustibler  of  purple  grain 


w 

216  AGAMEMNON. 

Than  all  the  wardrobes  of  the  world  could  drain  ; 
And  Earth  there  is,  whose  dusky  closets  hide 

The  precious  metal  wherewith  not  in  vain 
The  Gods  themselves  this  Royal  house  provide ; 
For  what  occasion  worthier,  or  more  meet, 
Than  now  to  carpet  the  victorious  feet 
Of  Him  who,  thus  far  having  done  their  will, 
Shall  now  their  last  About-to-be  fulfil  ? 

[AGAMEMNON  descends  from  his  chariot,  and  goes  with 
CLVTEMNESTRA  into  the  house,  CASSANDRA 
remaining.] 

CHORUS. 

About  the  nations  runs  a  saw, 

That  Over-good  ill-fortune  breeds  ; 

And  true  that,  by  the  mortal  law, 
Fortune  her  spoilt  children  feeds 
To  surfeit,  such  as  sows  the  seeds 

Of  Insolence,  that,  as  it  grows, 

The  flower  of  Self-repentance  blows. 

And  true  that  Virtue  often  leaves 
The  marble  walls  and  roofs  of  kings, 

And  underneath  the  poor  man's  eaves 
On  smoky  rafter  folds  her  wings. 

II. 

Thus  the  famous  city,  flown 
With  insolence,  and  overgrown, 


AGAMEMNON.  217 

Is  humbled  :   all  her  splendour  blown 
To  smoke  :   her  glory  laid  in  dust ; 
Who  shall  say  by  doom  unjust  ? 
But  should  He  to  whom  the  wrong 
Was  done,  and  Zeus  himself  made  strong 
To  do  the  vengeance  He  decreed  — 
At  last  returning  with  the  meed 

He  wrought  for  —  should  the  jealous  Eye 

That  blights  full-blown  prosperity 
Pursue  him  —  then  indeed,  indeed, 
Man  should  hoot  and  scare  aloof 
Good-fortune  lighting  on  the  roof; 
Yea,  even  Virtue's  self  forsake 
If  Glory  follow'd  in  the  wake ; 
Seeing  bravest,  best,  and  wisest 

But  the  playthings  of  a  day, 
Which  a  shadow  can  trip  over, 

And  a  breath  can  puff  away. 

CLYTEMNESTRA  (re-entering). 

Yet  for  a  moment  let  me  look  on  her  — 

This,  then,  is  Priam's  daughter  — 

Cassandra,  and  a  Prophetess,  whom  Zeus 

Has  giv'n  into  my  hands  to  minister 

Among  my  slaves.      Didst  tliou  prophesy  that  ? 

Well  —  some  more  famous  have  so  fall'n  before  — 


v 
* 


V* 

218  AGAMEMNON. 


Ev'n  Herakles,  the  son  of  Zeus,  they  say 
Was  sold,  and  bovv'd  his  shoulder  to  the  yoke. 


CHORUS. 

And,  if  needs  must  a  captive,  better  far 
Of  some  old  house  that  affluent  Time  himself 
Has  taught  the  measure  of  prosperity, 
Than  drunk  with  sudden  superfluity. 


CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Ev'n  so.      You  hear  ?     Therefore  at  once  descend 
From  that  triumphal  chariot — And  yet 
She  keeps  her  station  still,  her  laurel  on, 
Disdaining  to  make  answer. 

CHORUS. 

Nay,  perhaps, 

Like  some  stray  swallow  blown  across  the  seas, 
Interpreting  no  twitter  but  her  own. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

But,  if  barbarian,  still  interpreting 
The  universal  laniruaere  of  the  hand. 


AGAMEMNON.  219 

CHORUS. 

Which  yet  again  she  does  not  seem  to  see, 
Staring  before  her  with  wide-open  eyes 
As  in  a  trance. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Aye,  aye,  a  prophetess  — 

Wench  of  Apollo  once,  and  now  —  the  King's  ! 
A  time  will  come  for  her.     See  you  to  it : 

A  greater  business  now  is  on  my  hands  : 
For  lo  !  the  fire  of  Sacrifice  is  lit, 
And  the  grand  victim  by  the  altar  stands. 

\Exit  CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Cl-IORUS  (continuing). 

Still  a  mutter'd  and  half-blind 

Superstition  haunts  mankind, 
That,  by  some  divine  decree 

Yet  by  mortal  undivin'd, 

Mortal  Fortune  must  not  over- 
Leap  the  bound  he  cannot  see  ; 

For  that  even  wisest  labour 
Lofty-building,  builds  to  fall, 

Evermore  a  jealous  neighbour 
Undermining  floor  and  wall. 

So  that  on  the  smoothest  water 


220  AGAMEMNON. 

Sailing,  in  a  cloudless  sky, 
The  wary  merchant  overboard 
Flings  something  of  his  precious  hoard 

To  pacify  the  jealous  eye, 
That  will  not  suffer  man  to  swell 
Over  human  measure.     Well, 
As  the  Gods  have  order'd  we 
Must  take  —  I  know  not  —  let  it  be. 
But,  by  rule  of  retribution, 

Hidden,  too,  from  human  eyes, 
Fortune  in  her  revolution, 

If  she  fall,  shall  fall  to  rise  : 
And  the  hand  of  Zeus  dispenses 

Even  measure  in  the  main  : 
One  short  harvest  recompenses 

With  a  glut  of  golden  grain  ; 
So  but  men  in  patience  wait 

Fortune's  counter-revolution 
Axled  on  eternal  Fate  ; 
And  the  Sisters  three  that  twine, 
Cut  not  short  the  vital  line  ; 
For  indeed  the  purple  seed 
Of  life  once  shed  — 


CASSANDRA. 
Phfjubus  Apollo  ! 


AGAMEMNON.  2! 

CHORUS. 

Hark! 
The  lips  at  last  unlocking. 

CASSANDRA. 

Phoebus  !   Phoebus  ! 

CHORUS. 

Well,  what  of  Phoebus,  maiden  ?  though  a  name 
'T  is  but  disparagement  to  call  upon 
In  misery. 

CASSANDRA. 

Apollo  !   Apollo  !  Again  ! 
Oh,  the  burning  arrow  through  the  brain  ! 
Phoebus  Apollo  !   Apollo  ! 

CHORUS. 

Seemingly 
Possess'd  indeed  —  whether  by  — 

CASSANDRA. 

Phoebus  !   Phcebus  ! 

Thorough  trampled  ashes,  blood,  and  fiery  rain, 
Over  water  seething,  and  behind  the  breathing 


222  AGAMEMNON. 

Warhorse  in  the  darkness  —  till  you  rose  again, 
Took  the  helm  —  took  the  rein  — 

CHORUS. 

As  one  that  half  asleep  at  dawn  recalls 
A  night  of  Horror  ! 

CASSANDRA. 

Hither,  whither,  Phoebus  ?     And  with  whom, 
Leading  me,  lighting  me  — 

CHORUS. 

I  can  answer  that 

CASSANDRA. 

Down  to  what  slaughter-house  ! 
Foh  !  the  smell  of  carnage  through  the  door 
Scares  me  from  it  —  drags  me  tow'rd  it  — 
Phoebus  !   Apollo  !   Apollo  ! 

CHORUS. 

One  of  the  dismal  prophet-pack,  it  seems, 
Tint  hunt  the  trail  of  blood.      But  here  at  fault  — 
This  is  no  den  of  slaughter,  but  the  house 
Of  Agamemnon. 


AGAMEMNON.  223 

CASSANDRA. 

* 

Down  upon  the  towers 
Phantoms    of  two    mangled   Children,  hover — and    a 

famish'd  man, 
At  an  empty  table  glaring,  seizes  and  devours  ! 

CHORUS. 

Thyestes  and  his  children  !      Strange  enough 
For  any  maiden  from  abroad  to  know, 
Or,  knowing  — 

CASSANDRA. 

And  look  !  in  the  chamber  below 
The  terrible  Woman,  listening,  watching, 
Under  a  mask,  preparing  the  blow 
In  the  fold  of  her  robe  — 

CHORUS. 

Nay,  but  again  at  fault  : 
For  in  the  tragic  story  of  this  House  — 
Unless,  indeed,  the  fatal  Helen  — 
No  woman  — 

CASSANDRA. 

No  Woman  —  Tisiphone  !   Daughter 
Of  Tartarus  —  love-grinning  Woman  above, 


224  AGAMEMNON. 

Dragon-  tail'd  under  —  honey-tongued,  Harpy-claw'd, 
Into  the  glittering  meshes  of  slaughter 
She  wheedles,  entices,  him  into  the  poisonous 
Fold  of  the  serpent  — 

CHORUS. 

Peace,  mad  woman,  peace  ! 
Whose  stony  lips  once  open  vomit  out 
Such  uncouth  horrors. 

CASSANDRA. 

I  tell  you  the  lioness 
Slaughters  the  Lion  asleep  ;  and  lifting 
Her  blood-dripping  fangs  buried  deep  in  his  mane, 
Glaring  about  her  insatiable,  bellowing, 
Bounds  hither  —  Phoebus,  Apollo,  Apollo,  Apollo  ! 
Whither  have  you  led  me,  under  night  alive  with  fire, 
Through  the  trampled  ashes  of  the  city  of  my  sire, 
F~rom  my  slaughtered  kinsmen,  fallen  throne,  insulted 

shrine, 
Slave-like  to  be  butcher'd,  the  daughter  of  a  Royal 

line  ! 

CHORUS. 

And  so  returning,  like  a  nightingale 
Returning  to  the  passionate  note  of  woe 
B     which  the  silence  first  was  broken  ! 


v 


AGAMEMNON.  225 

CASSANDRA. 

Oh, 

A  nightingale,  a  nightingale,  indeed, 
That,  as  she  "Itys!  Itys!  Itys  !"  so 
I  "Helen!   Helen!  Helen!"  having  sung 
Amid  my  people,  now  to  those  who  flung 
And  trampled  on  the  nest,  and  slew  the  young, 
Keep  crying  "  Blood  !  blood  !  blood  !  "  and  none  will 

heed  ! 

Now  what  for  me  is  this  prophetic  weed, 
And  what  for  me  is  this  immortal  crown, 
Who  like  a  wild  swan  from  Scamander's  reed 
Chaunting  her  death-song  float  Cocytus-down  ? 
There  let  the  fatal  Leaves  to  perish  lie  ! 
To  perish,  or  enrich  some  other  brow 
With  that  all-fatal  gift  of  Prophecy 
They  palpitated  under  Him  who  now, 
Checking  his  flaming  chariot  in  mid  sky, 
With  divine  irony  sees  disadorn 
The  wretch  his  love  has  made  the  people's  scorn, 
The  raving  quean,  the  mountebank,  the  scold, 
Who,  wrapt  up  in  the  ruin  she  foretold 
With  those  who  would  not  listen,  now  descends 
To  that  dark  kingdom  where  his  empire  ends. 


220  AGAMEMNON. 

CHORUS. 

Strange  that  Apollo  should  the  laurel  wreath 
Of  Prophecy  he  crown'd  your  head  withal 
Himself  disgrace.      But  something  have  we  heard 
Of  some  divine  revenge  for  slighted  love. 

CASSANDRA. 

Aye  —  and  as  if  in  malice  to  attest 

With  one  expiring  beam  of  Second- sight 
Wherewith  his  victim  he  has  curs'd  and  blest, 
Ere  quencht  for  ever  in  descending  night ; 
As  from  behind  a  veil  no  longer  peeps 
The  Bride  of  Truth,  nor  from  their  hidden  deeps 
Darkle  the  waves  of  Prophecy,  but  run 
Clear  from  the  very  fountain  of  the  Sun. 
Ye  call'd —  and  rightly  call'd  me  —  bloodhound;   ye 
That  like  old  lagging  dogs  in  self-despite 
Must  follow  up  the  scent  with  me  ;   with  me, 
\Vho  having  smelt  the  blood  about  this  house 
Already  spilt,  now  bark  of  more  to  be. 
For,  though  you  hear  them  not,  the  infernal  Choir 
Whose  dread  antiphony  forswears  the  lyre, 
Who  now  arc  chaunting  of  that  grim  carouse 
Of  blood  with  which  the  children  fed  their  Sire, 
Shall  never  from  their  dreadful  chorus  stop 
Till  all  be  counter-pledg'd  to  the  last  drop. 


AGAMEMNON.  227 

CHORUS. 

Hinting  at  what  indeed  has  long  been  done, 
And  widely  spoken,  no  Apollo  needs  ; 
And  for  what  else  you  aim  at  —  still  in  dark 
And  mystic  language  — 

CASSANDRA. 

Nay,  then,  in  the  speech, 
She  that  reproved  me  was  so  glib  to  teach  — 
Before  yon  Sun  a  hand's-breadth  in  the  skies 
He  moves  in  shall  have  moved,  those  age-sick  eyes 
Shall  open  wide  on  Agamemnon  slain 
Before  your  very  feet.     Now,  speak  I  plain  ? 

CHORUS. 
Blasphemer,  hush  ! 

CASSANDRA. 

Aye,  hush  the  mouth  you  may, 
But  not  the  murder. 

CHORUS. 
Murder  !     But  the  Gods  — 

CASSANDRA. 

The  Gods ! 
Who  now  abet  the  bloody  work  within  ! 


228  AGAMEMNON. 

CHORUS. 
Woman  !  — The  Gods  !  —  Abet  with  whom  ?  — 

CASSANDRA. 

With  Her, 
Who  brandishing  aloft  the  axe  of  doom, 

That  just  has  laid  one  victim  at  her  feet, 
Looks  round  her  for  that  other,  without  whom 

The  banquet  of  revenge  were  incomplete. 
Yet  ere  I  fall  will  I  prelude  the  strain 
Of  Triumph,  that  in  full  I  shall  repeat 
When,  looking  from  the  twilight  Underland, 
I  welcome  Her  as  she  descends  amain, 
Gash'd  like  myself,  but  by  a  dearer  hand. 
For  that  old  murder'd  Lion  with  me  slain, 
Rolling  an  awful  eyeball  through  the  gloom 
He  stalks  about  of  Hades  up  to  Day, 
Shall  rouse  the  whelp  of  exile  far  away, 
His  only  authentic  offspring,  ere  the  grim 
Wolf  crept  between  his  Lioness  and  him; 
Who,  with  one  stroke  of  Retribution,  her 
Who  did  the  deed,  and  her  adulterer, 
Shall  drive  to  hell;   and  then,  himself  pursued 
By  the  wing'd  Furies  of  his  Mother's  blood, 
Shall  drag  about  the  yoke  of  Madness,  till 
Releas'd,  when  Nemesis  has  gorg'd  her  fill, 


AGAMEMNON.  229 

By  that  same  God,  in  whose  prophetic  ray 
Viewing  To-morrow  mirror'd  as  To-day, 
And  that  this  House  of  Atreus  the  same  wine 
Themselves  must  drink  they  brew'd  for  me  and  mine ; 
I  close  my  lips  for  ever  with  one  prayer, 
That  the  dark  Warder  of  the  World  below 
Would  ope  the  portal  at  a  single  blow. 


CHORUS. 

And  the  raving  voice,  that  rose 
Out  of  silence  into  speech 
Out-ascending  human  reach, 
Back  to  silence  foams  and  blows, 
Leaving  all  my  bosom  heaving 
Wrath  and  raving  all,  one  knows  ; 
Prophet-seeming,  but  if  ever 
Of  the  Prophet-God  possest, 
By  the  Prophet's  self  confes-t 
God-abandon'd  —  woman's  shrill 
Anguish  into  tempest  rising 
Louder  as  less  listen'd. 

Still - 

Spite  of  Reason,  spite  of  Will, 
What  unwelcome,  what  unholy, 
Vapour  of  prognostic,  slowly 
Rising  from  the  central  soul's 


AGAMEMNON. 

Recesses,  all  in  darkness  rolls  ? 
What  !  shall  Age's  torpid  ashes 
Kindle  at  the  random  spark 
Of  a  raving  maiden  ? —  Hark  ! 
What  was  that  behind  the  wall  ? 
A  heavy  blow  —  a  groan  —  a  fall  — 
Some  one  crying — Listen  further  — 
Hark  again  then,  crying  "  Murder  !  " 
Some  one  —  who  then  ?     Agamemnon  ? 
Agamemnon  ? —  Hark  again  ! 
Murder  !  murder  !  murder  !   murder  ! 
Help  within  there  !     Help  without  there  ! 
Break  the  doors  in  !  — 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

( Appearing  from  within,  where  lies 
AGAMEMNON  dead.)1 

Spare  your  pain. 

Look  !   I  who  but  just  now  before  you  all 
Boasted  of  loyal  wedlock  unashamed, 
Now  unashamed  dare  boast  the  contrary. 
Why,  how  else  should  one  compass  the  defeat 
Of  him  who  underhand  contrives  one's  own, 
Unless  by  such  a  snare  of  circumstance 
As,  once  enmesht,  he  never  should  break  through  ? 

1  Herman  says,  "  Tvactis  tabulatis  "  —  the    scene  drawing — "eon- 
spicitur  Clytemnestra  in  conclavi  stans  ad  corpus  Agamemnonis." 


AGAMEMNON.  231 

The  blow  now  struck  was  not  the  random  blow 

Of  sudden  passion,  but  with  slow  device 

Prepared,  and  levell'd  with  the  hand  of  time. 

I  say  it  who  devised  it ;   I  who  did  ; 

And  now  stand  here  to  face  the  consequence. 

Aye,  in  a  deadlier  web  than  of  that  loom 

In  whose  blood-purple  he  divined  his  doom, 

And  fear'd  to  walk  upon,  but  walk'd  at  last, 

Entangling  him  inextricably  fast, 

I  smote  him,  and  he  bellow'd  ;   and  again 

I  smote,  and  with  a  groan  his  knees  gave  way  ; 

And,  as  he  fell  before  me,  with  a  third 

And  last  libation  from  the  deadly  mace 

I  pledg'd  the  crowniifg  draught  to  Hades  due, 

That  subterranean  Saviour  —  of  the  Dead  ! l 

At  which  he  spouted  up  the  Ghost  in  such 

A  burst  of  purple  as,  bespatter'd  with, 

No  less  did  I  rejoice  than  the  green  ear 

Rejoices  in  the  largess  of  the  skies 

That  fleeting  Iris  follows  as  it  flies. 

CHORUS. 

Oh  woman,  woman,  woman  ! 
By  what  accursed  root  or  weed 
Of  Earth,  or  Sea,  or  Hell,  inflamed, 

l  At  certain  Ceremonies,  the  Third  and  crowning  Libation  \vas  to 
Zeus   Soter  ;    and  thus    ironically  to   Pluto. 


^ 


232  AGAMEMNON. 

Dar'st  stand  before  us  unashamed 
And,  daring  do,  dare  glory  in  the  deed  ! 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Oh,  I  that  dream'd  the  fall  of  Troy,  as  you 

Belike  of  Troy's  destroyer.     Dream  or  not, 

Here  lies  your  King  —  my  Husband — Agamemnon, 

Slain  by  this  right  hand's  righteous  handicraft. 

Like  you,  or  like  it  not,  alike  to  me ; 

To  me  alike  whether  or  not  you  share 

In  making  due  libation  over  this 

Great  Sacrifice  —  if  ever  due,  from  him 

Who,  having  charg'd  so  deep  a  bowl  of  blood, 

Himself  is  forced  to  drink  it  to  the  dregs. 

CHORUS. 

Woman,  what  blood  but  that  of  Troy,  which  Zeus 

Foredoom'd  for  expiation  by  his  hand 

For  whom  the  penalty  was  pledg'd  ?      And  now, 

Over  his  murder'd  body,  Thou 

Talk  of  libation  !  —  Thou  !  Thou  !  Thou  ! 

But  mark!     Not  thine  of  sacred  wine 

Over  his  head,  but  ours  on  thine 

Of  curse  and  groan,  and  torn-up  stone, 

To  slay  or  storm  thee  from  the  gate, 

The  City's  curse,  the  People's  hate, 

Execrate,  exterminate  — 


>  <r-    \ 

-J9>-*\ 

^v 


AGAMEMNON.  233 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Aye,  aye,  to  me  how  lightly  you  adjudge 
Exile  or  death,  and  never  had  a  word 
Of  counter-condemnation  for  Him  there  ; 
Who,  when  the  field  throve  with  the  proper  flock 
For  Sacrifice,  forsooth  let  be  the  beast, 
And  with  his  own  hand  his  own  innocent 
Blood,  and  the  darling  passion  of  my  womb  — 
Her  slew  —  to  lull  a  peevish  wind  of  Thrace. 
And  him  who  curs'd  the  city  with  that  crime 
You  hail  with  acclamation ;  but  on  me, 
Who  only  do  the  work  you  should  have  done, 
You  turn  the  axe  of  condemnation.     Well ; 
Threaten  you  me,  I  take  the  challenge  up; 
Here  stand  we  face  to  face ;   win  Thou  the  game, 
And  take  the  stake  you  aim  at;  but  if  I  — 
Then,  by  the  Godhead  that  for  me  decides, 
Another  lesson  you  shall  learn,  though  late. 

CHORUS. 

Man-mettled  evermore,  and  now 
Manslaughter-madden'd  !  Shameless  brow  ! 
But  do  you  think  us  deaf  and  blind 

Not  to  know,  and  long  ago, 
What  Passion  under  all  the  prate 
Of  holy  justice  made  thee  hate 
Where  Love  was  due,  and  love  where  — 


234  AGAMEMNON. 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Nay,  then,  hear  ! 

By  this  dead  Husband,  and  the  reconciled 
Avenging  Fury  of  my  slaughter'd  child, 
I  swear  I  will  not  reign  the  slave  of  fear 
While  he  that  holds  me,  as  I  hold  him,  dear, 
Kindles  his  fire  upon  this  hearth  :  my  fast 
Shield  for  the  time  to  come,  as  of  the  past. 
Yonder  lies  he  that  in  the  honey'd  arms 
Of  his  Chryseides  under  Troy  walls 
Dishonour'd  mine:   and  this  last  laurell'd  wench, 
This  prophet-messmate  of  the  rower's  bench, 
Thus  far  in  triumph  his,  with  him  along 
Shall  go,  together  chaunting  one  death-song 
To  Hades  —  fitting  garnish  for  the  feast 
Which  Fate's  avenging  hand  through  mine  has  drest. 

CHORUS. 

Woe,  woe,  woe,  woe  ! 
That  death  as  sudden  as  the  blow 
That  laid  Thee  low  would  me  lay  low 
Where  low  thou  liest,  my  sovereign  Lord  ! 
Who  ten  years  long  to  Trojan  sword 
Devoted,  and  to  storm  aboard, 

In  one  ill  woman's  cause  accurst, 
Liest  slain  before  thy  palace  door 

By  one  accursedest  and  worst  ! 


-•- 

ir  IV 


AGAMEMNON.  235 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Call  not  on  Death,  old  man,  that,  call'd  or  no, 

Comes  quick;   nor  spend  your  ebbing  breath  on  me, 
Nor  Helena :   who  but  as  arrows  be 

Shot  by  the  hidden  hand  behind  the  bow. 

CHORUS. 

Alas,  alas !  The  Curse  I  know 

That  round  the  House  of  Atreus  clings, 
About  the  roof,  about  the  walls, 

Shrouds  it  with  his  sable  wings ; 
And  still  as  each  new  victim  falls, 

And  gorg'd  with  kingly  gore, 
Down  on  the  bleeding  carcase  flings, 

And  croaks  for  "  More,  more,  more  !  " 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Aye,  now,  indeed,  you  harp  on  likelier  strings. 

Not  I,  nor  Helen,  but  that  terrible 

Alastor  of  old  Tantalus  in  Hell ; 

Who,  one  sole  actor  in  the  scene  begun 

By  him,  and  carried  down  from  sire  to  son, 

The  mask  of  Victim  and  Avenger  shifts  : 
And,  for  a  last  catastrophe,  that  grim 

Guest  of  the  abominable  banquet  lifts 
His  head  from  Hell,  and  in  my  person  cries 


236  AGAMEMNON. 

For  one  full-grown  sufficient  sacrifice, 

Requital  of  the  feast  prepared  for  him 
Of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  —  And  there  it  lies. 


CHORUS. 

Oh,  Agamemnon  !   Oh,  my  Lord  ! 

Who,  after  ten  years  toil'd  ; 
After  barbarian  lance  and  sword 

Encounter'd,  fought,  and  foil'd  ; 
Returning  with  the  just  award 

Of  Glory,  thus  inglorious  by 

Thine  own  domestic  Altar  die, 
Fast  in  the  spider  meshes  coil'd 

Of  Treason  most  abhorr'd  ! 


CLYTEMNESTRA. 

And  by  what  retribution  more  complete, 
Than,  having  in  the  meshes  of  deceit 
Enticed  my  child,  and  slain  her  like  a  fawn 
Upon  the  altar  ;   to  that  altar  drawn 
Himself,  like  an  unconscious  beast,  full-fed 
With  Conquest,  and  the  garland  on  his  head, 
Is  slain  ;   and  now,  gone  down  among  the  Ghost, 
Of  taken  Troy  indeed  may  make  the  most, 
But  not  one  unrequited  murder  boast. 


AGAMEMNON.  237 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  Agamemnon,  dead,  dead,  dead,  dead,  dead  ! 

What  hand,  what  pious  hand  shall  wash  the  wound 
Through  which  the  sacred  spirit  ebb'd  and  fled  ! 

With  reverend  care  compose,  and  to  the  ground 
Commit  the  mangled  form  of  Majesty, 

And  pour  the  due  libation  o'er  the  mound  ! 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

This  hand,  that  struck  the  guilty  life  away, 
The  guiltless  carcase  in  the  dust  shall  lay 
With  due  solemnities  :   and  if  with  no 
Mock  tears,  or  howling  counterfeit  of  woe, 
On  this  side  earth  ;   perhaps  the  innocent  thing, 
Whom  with  paternal  love  he  sent  before, 
Meeting  him  by  the  melancholy  shore, 
Her  arms  about  him  with  a  kiss  shall  fling, 
And  lead  him  to  his  shadowy  throne  below. 

CHORUS. 

Alas  !   alas  !   the  fatal  rent 

Which  through  the  House  of  Atreus  went, 

Gapes  again  ;   a  purple  rain 

Sweats  the  marble  floor,  and  falls 

From  the  tottering  roof  and  walls, 

The  Daemon  heaving  under;  gone 


238  AGAMEMNON. 

The  master-prop  they  rested  on  : 
And  the  storm  once  more  awake 

Of  Nemesis  ;  of  Nemesis 
Whose  fury  who  shall  slake  ! 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Ev'n  I  ;  who  by  this  last  grand  victim  hope 
The  Pyramid  of  Vengeance  so  to  cope, 
That  —  and  methinks  I  hear  him  in  the  deep 

Beneath  us  growling  tow'rd  his  rest  —  the  stern 
Alastor  to  some  other  roof  may  turn, 
Leaving  us  here  at  last  in  peace  to  keep 
What  of  life's  harvest  yet  remains  to  reap. 

CHORUS. 

Thou  to  talk  of  reaping  Peace 

Who  sowest  Murder  !  Woman,  cease  ! 

And,  despite  that  iron  face  — 

Iron  as  the  bloody  mace 

Thou  bearest  —  boasting  as  if  Vengeance 

Centred  in  that  hand  alone  ; 
Know  that,  Fury  pledg'd  to  Fury, 
Vengeance  owes  himself  the  debts 
He  makes,  and  while  he  serves  thee,  whets 

His  knife  upon  another  stone, 
Against  thyself,  and  him  with  thee 


71.V 


AGAMEMNON.  239 

Colleaguing,  as  you  boast  to  be, 

The  tools  of  Fate.     But  Fate  is  Zeus  ; 

Zeus  —  who  for  awhile  permitting 

Sin  to  prosper  in  his  name, 
Shall  vindicate  his  own  abuse  ; 
And  having  brought  his  secret  thought 
To  light,  shall  break  and  fling  to  shame 
The  baser  tools  with  which  he  wrought. 


CLVTEMNESTRA  :  CHORUS. 

All  hail,  thou  daybreak  of  my  just  revenge  ! 

In  which,  as  waking  from  injurious  sleep, 

Methinks  I  recognise  the  Gods  enthroned 

In  the  bright  conclave  of  eternal  Justice, 

Revindicate  the  wrongs  of  man  to  man  ! 

For  see  this  man  —  so  dear  to  me  now  dead  — 

Caught  in  the  very  meshes  of  the  snare 

By  which  his  father  Atreus  netted  mine. 

For  that  same  Atreus  surely,  was  it  not  ? 

Who,  when  the  question  came  of,  Whose  the  throne? 

From  Argos  out  his  younger  brother  drove, 

My  sire  —  Thyestes  —  drove  him  like  a  wolf, 

Keeping  his  cubs  —  save  one  —  to  better  purpose. 

For  when  at  last  the  home-  heartbroken  man 

Crept  humbly  back  again,  craving  no  more 

Of  his  own  countr     than  to  walk  its  soil 


•   ) 

— -1 


240  AGAMEMNON. 

In  liberty,  and  of  her  fruits  as  much 

As  not  to  starve  withal  —  the  savage  King, 

With  damnable  alacrity  of  hate, 

And  reconciliation  of  revenge, 

Bade  him,  all  smiles,  to  supper  —  such  a  supper, 

Where  the  prime  dainty  was  —  my  brother's  flesh, 

So  maim'd  and  clipt  of  human  likelihood, 

That  the  unsuspecting  Father,  light  of  heart, 

And  quick  of  appetite,  at  once  fell  to, 

And  ate  —  ate  —  what,  with  savage  irony 

As  soon  as  eaten,  told  —  the  wretched  man 

Disgorging  with  a  shriek,  down  to  the  ground 

The  table  with  its  curst  utensil  dashed, 

And,  grinding  into  pieces  with  his  heel, 

Cried,  loud  enough  for  Heav'n  and  Hell  to  hear, 

"  Thus  perish  all  the  race  of  Pleisthenes  !  " 

And  now  behold !  the  son  of  that  same  Atreus 

By  me  the  son  of  that  Thyestes  slain 

Whom  the  kind  brother,  sparing  from  the  cook, 

Had  with  his  victim  pack'd  to  banishment ; 

Where  Nemesis  —  (so  sinners  from  some  nook, 

Whence  least  they  think  assailable,  assailed)  — 

Rear'd  me  from  infancy  till  fully  grown, 

To  claim  in  full  my  father's  bloody  due. 

Aye,  I  it  was  —  none  other  —  far  away 

Who  spun  the  thread,  which  gathering  day  by  day, 

Mesh  after  mesh,  inch  upon  inch,  at  last 


AGAMEMNON.  241 

Reach'd  him,  and  wound  about  him,  as  he  lay, 
And  in  the  supper  of  his  smoking  Troy 
Devour'd  his  own  destruction  —  scarce  condign 
Return  for  that  his  Father  forc'd  on  mine. 

CHORUS. 

yEgisthus,  only  creatures  of  base  breed 
Insult  the  fallen  ;  fall'n  too,  as  you  boast, 
By  one  who  plann'd  but  dared  not  do  the  deed. 
This  is  your  hour  of  triumph.     But  take  heed  ; 
The  blood  of  Atreus  is  not  all  outrun 
With  this  slain  King,  but  flowing  in  a  son, 
Who  saved  by  such  an  exile  as  your  own 
For  such  a  counter-retribution  — 

yEGISTHUS. 

Oh, 

You  then,  the  nether  benchers  of  the  realm, 
Dare  open  tongue  on  those  who  rule  the  helm  ? 
Take  heed  yourselves ;  for,  old  and  dull  of  wit, 
And  harden'd  as  your  mouth  against  the  bit, 
Be  wise  in  time  ;   kick  not  against  the  spurs ; 
Remembering  Princes  are  shrewd  taskmasters. 

CHORUS. 

Beware  thyself,  bewaring  me  ; 
Remembering  that,  too  sharply  stirred, 


242  AGAMEMNON. 

X 

The  spurrer  need  beware  the  spurred  ; 
As  thou  of  me  ;  whose  single  word 
Shall  rouse  the  City  —  yea,  the  very 
Stones  you  walk  upon,  in  thunder 
Gathering  o'er  your  head,  to  bury 

Thee  and  thine  Adult'ress  under ! 

• 

yEGISTHUS. 

Raven,  that  with  croaking  jaws 

Unorphean,  undivine, 
After  you  no  City  draws  ; 

And  if  any  vengeance,  mine 
Upon  your  wither'd  shoulders  — 

CHORUS. 

Thine  ! 

Who  daring  not  to  strike  the  blow 
Thy  worse  than  woman-craft  design'd, 
To  worse  than  woman  — 

/EGISTHUS. 

Soldiers,  ho  ! 

CLYTEMNESTRA. 

Softly,  good  /Egisthus,  softly  ;    let  the  sword  that  has 
so  deep 


AGAMEMNON.  243 

Drunk  of  righteous  Retribution  now  within  the  scab- 
bard sleep ! 

And  if  Nemesis  be  sated  with  the  blood  already  spilt, 
Even  so  let  us,  nor  carry  lawful  Justice  into  Guilt. 
Sheath  your  sword ;  dismiss  your  spears  ;    and  you, 

old  men,  your  howling  cease, 
And,  ere  ill  blood   come  to  running,    each  unto  his 

home  in  peace, 
Recognising  what  is  done  for  done  indeed,  as  done 

it  is, 
And    husbanding  your   scanty  breath   to   pray   that 

nothing  more  amiss. 
Farewell.      Meanwhile,   you    and   I,   ^Egisthus,   shall 

deliberate, 
When  the  storm  is  blowing  over,  how  to  settle  House 

and  State. 


< 

5K1 


EUPHRANOR. 


EUPHRANOR, 

A  MAY-DAY   CONVERSATION   AT  CAMBRIDGE. 


"    TIS   FORTY   YEARS   SINCE. 


[  Written  in  the  forties  (see  reference  to  Wordsworth 's  age  on  p.  jj i ')  .• 
first  published  in  1851  ;  again  in  1854.  ;  now  reprinted  from  the  -undated 
private  impression  (of  i8ji  ?)  made  by  Billing  and  Son  at  Gnildford.  ] 


®J— ~-5»^ 

YV 


EUPHEA^OE. 


DURING  the  time  of  my  pretending  to  practise  Medi- 
cine at  Cambridge,  I  was  aroused,  one  fine  fore- 
noon of  May,  by  the  sound  of  some  one  coining  up  my 
staircase,  two  or  three  steps  at  a  time  it  seemed  to  me ; 
then,  directly  after,  a  smart  rapping  at  the  door ;  and. 
before  I  could  say  "  Come  in,"  Euphranor  had  opened 
it,  and,  striding  up  to  me,  seized  my  arm  with  his  usual 
eagerness,  and  told  me  I  must  go  out  with  him — "  It- 
was  such  a  day  —  sun  shining  —  breeze  blowing  — 
hedges  and  trees  in  full  leaf. —  He  had  been  to  Ches- 
terton, (he  said,)  and  pull'd  back  with  a  man  who  now 
left  him  in  the  lurch ;  and  I  must  take  his  place."  I 
told  him  what  a  poor  hand  at  the  oar  I  was,  and,  such 
walnut-shells  as  these  Cambridge  boats  were,  I  was  sure 
a  strong  fellow  like  him  must  rejoice  in  getting  a  whole 
Eight-oar  to  himself  once  in  a  while.  He  laughed,  and 
said,  "  The  pace,  the  pace  was  the  thing — However,  that 
was  all  nothing,  but  —  in  short,  I  must  go  with  him, 
whether  for  a  row,  or  a  walk  in  the  fields,  or  a  game  of 
Billiards  at  Chesterton  —  whatever  I  liked  —  only  go  I 
must.'1  After  a  little  more  banter,  about  some  possible 
Patients,  I  got  up ;  (dosed  some  very  weary  medical 


250  EUPHRANOR. 

Treatise  I  was  reading;  on  with  coat  and  hat;  and  in 
three  minutes  we  had  run  downstairs,  out  into  the 
open  air  ;  where  both  of  us  calling  out  together  "What 
a  day ! "  it  was,  we  struck  out  briskly  for  the  old 
Wooden  Bridge,  where  Euphranor  said  his  boat  was 
lying. 

"  By-the-by,"  said  I,  as  we  went  along,  "  it  would  be 
a  charity  to  knock  up  poor  Lexilogus,  and  carry  him 
along  with  us." 

Not  much  of  a  charity,  Euphranor  thought  —  Lexilo- 
gus would  so  much  rather  be  left  with  his  books. 
Which  I  declared  was  the  very  reason  he  should  be 
taken  from  them  ;  and  Euphranor,  who  was  quite  good- 
humour'd,  and  wish'd  Lexilogus  all  well  (for  we  were 
all  three  Yorkshiremen,  whose  families  lived  no  great 
distance  asunder),  easily  consented.  So,  without  more 
ado,  we  turn'd  into  Trinity  Great  gate,  and  round  by 
the  right  up  a  staircase  to  the  attic  where  Lexilogus 
kept. 

The  door  was  sported,  as  they  say,  but  I  knew  he 
must  be  within  ;  so,  using  the  privilege  of  an  old  friend, 
I  shouted  to  him  through  the  letter-slit.  Presently  we 
heard  the  sound  of  books  falling,  and  soon  after  Lexilo- 
gus' thin,  pale,  and  spectacled  face  appear'd  at  the  half- 
open'd  door.  He  was  always  glad  to  see  me,  I  believe, 
howsoever  I  disturbed  him ;  and  he  smiled  as  he  laid  his 
hand  in  mine,  rather  than  return'd  its  pressure  :  work- 
ing hard,  as  he  was,  poor  fellow,  for  a  Fellowship  that 
should  repay  all  the  expense  of  sending  him  to  College. 


EUPHRANOR.  251 

The  tea-things  were  still  on  the  table,  and  I  asked 
him  (though  I  knew  well  enough)  if  he  were  so  fashion- 
able as  only  just  to  have  breakfasted  ? 

"  Oh — long  ago — directly  after  morning  Chapel." 

I  then  told  him  he  must  put  his  books  away,  and 
come  out  on  the  river  with  Euphranor  and  myself. 

"  He  could  not  possibly,"  he  thought; — "not  so  early, 
at  least — preparing  for  some  Examination,  or  course 
of  Lectures r 

"  Come,  come,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Euphranor, 
"  that  is  the  very  reason,  says  the  Doctor ;  and  he  will 
have  his  way.  So  make  haste." 

I  then  told  him  (what  I  then  suddenly  remembered) 
that,  beside  other  reasons,  his  old  Aunt,  a  Cambridge 
tradesman's  widow  whom  I  attended,  and  whom  Lexilo- 
gus  help'd  to  support  out  of  his  own  little  savings, 
wanted  to  see  him  on  some  business.  He  should  go 
with  us  to  Chesterton,  where  she  lodged ;  visit  her 
while  Euphranor  and  I  play'd  a  game  or  two  of  Bill- 
iards at  the  Inn;  and  afterwards  (for  I  knew  how 
little  of  an  oars-man  he  was)  we  would  all  three  take  a 
good  stretch  into  the  Fields  together. 

He  supposed  "  we  should  be  back  in  good  time '' ; 
about  which  I  would  make  no  condition ;  and  he  then 
resigned  himself  to  Destiny.  While  he  was  busy  chang- 
ing and  brushing  his  clothes,  Euphranor,  who  had 
walk'd  somewhat  impatiently  about  the  room,  looking 
now  at  the  books,  and  now  through  the  window  at  some 
white  pigeons  wheeling  about  in  the  clear  sky,  went  up 


252  EUPHRANOR. 

to  the  mantelpiece  and  call'd  out,  "  What  a  fine  new 
pair  of  screens  Lexilogus  has  got !  the  present,  doubt- 
less, of  some  fair  Lady." 

Lexilogus  said  they  were  a  present  from  his  sister  on 
his  birthday;  and  coming  up  to  me,  brush  in  hand, 
asked  if  I  recognised  the  views  represented  on  them? 

''Quite  well,  quite  well,"  I  said — "the  old  Church  — 
the  Yew  tree  —  the  Parsonage  —  one  cannot  mistake 
them." 

"  And  were  they  not  beautifully  done  ?  " 

And  I  answer'd  without  hesitation,  "they  were;''  for 
I  knew  the  girl  who  had  painted  them,  and  that  (what- 
ever they  might  be  in  point  of  Art)  a  still  finer  spirit 
had  guided  her  hand. 

At  last,  after  a  little  hesitation  as  to  whether  he 
should  wear  cap  and  gown,  (which  I  decided  he  should, 
for  this  time  only,  not,)  Lexilogus  was  ready;  and  call- 
ing out  on  the  staircase  to  some  invisible  Bed-maker, 
that  his  books  should  not  be  meddled  with,  we  ran 
downstairs,  crossed  the  Great  Court — through  the 
Screens,  as  they  are  call'd,  perpetually  traversal  by 
Gyp,  Cook,  Bed-maker,  and  redolent  of  perpetual  Din- 
ner;—  and  so,  through  the  cloisters  of  Neville's  Court, 
out  upon  the  open  green  before  the  Library.  The  sun 
shone  broad  on  the  new-shaven  expanse  of  grass,  while 
holiday-seeming  people  saunter'd  along  the  River-side, 
and  under  the  trees,  now  flourishing  in  freshest  green 
—  the  Chestnut  especially  in  full  fan,  and  leaning  down 
liis  white  cones  over  the  sluggish  current,  which  seem'd 


to 


EUPHKANOR.  253 

indeed  fitter  for  the  slow  merchandise  of  coal,  than  to 
wash  the  walls  and  flow  through  the  groves  of  Academe. 

We  now  consider'd  that  we  had  miss'd  our  proper 
point  of  embarkation ;  but  this  was  easily  set  right  at  a 
slight  expense  of  College  propriety.  Euphranor  calling- 
out  to  some  one  who  had  his  boat  in  charge  along  with 
others  by  the  wooden  bridge,  we  descended  the  grassy 
slope,  stepp'd  in,  with  due  caution  on  the  part  of  Lexilo- 
gus  and  myself,  and  settled  the  order  of  our  voyage. 
Euphrauor  and  I  were  to  pull,  and  Lexilogus  (as  I  at 
first  proposed)  to  steer.  But  seeing  he  was  somewhat 
shy  of  meddling  in  the  matter,  I  agreed  to  take  all  the 
blame  of  my  own  awkwardness  011  myself. 

"And  just  take  care  of  this,  will  you.  Lexilogus  ?'' 
said  Euphranor,  handing  him  a  book  which  fell  out  of 
the  pocket  of  the  coat  he  was  taking  off. 

"  Oh,  books,  books  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  thought  we 
were  to  steer  clear  of  them,  at  any  rate.  Now  we  shall 
have  Lexilogus  reading  all  the  way,  instead  of  looking 
about  him,  and  inhaling  the  fresh  air  unalloy'd.  What 
is  it —  Greek,  Algebra,  German,  or  what  ? " 

"  None  of  these,  however,"  Euphranor  said,  "  but  only 
Digby's  Godefridus  "  ;  and  then  asking  me  whether  I  was 
ready,  and  I  calling  out,  "Ay,  ay,  Sir,"  our  oars  plash' d 
in  the  water.  Safe  through  the  main  arch  of  Trinity 
bridge,  we  shot  past  the  Library,  I  exerting  myself  so 
strenuously  (as  bad  rowers  are  apt  to  do),  that  I  almost 
drove  the  boat  upon  a  very  unobtrusive  angle  of  the 
College  buildings.  This  danger  past,  however,  we  got 


254  EUPHRANOR. 

on  better ;  Euphranor  often  looking  behind  him  to  an- 
ticipate our  way,  and  counteracting  with  his  experienced 
oar  the  many  misdirections  of  mine.  Amid  all  this,  he 
had  leisure  to  ask  me  if  I  knew  those  same  Digby  books? 

•'Some  of  them,"  I  told  him— "the  '  Broad  Stone  of 
Honour,'  for  one ;  indeed  I  had  the  first  Protestant  edi- 
tion of  it,  now  very  rare." 

"  But  not  so  good  as  the  enlarged  Catholic,"  said 
Euphranor,  "of  which  this  Godefridus  is  part." 

"  Perhaps  not," I  replied  ;  "but  then,  on  the  other  hand, 
not  so  Catholic ;  which  you  and  Lexilogus  will  agree 
with  me  is  much  in  its  favour." 

Which  I  said  slyly,  because  of  Euphranor's  being 
rather  taken  with  the  Oxford  doctrine  just  then  coming 
into  vogue. 

"  You  cannot  forgive  him  that,"  said  he. 

"Nay,  nay,"  said  I,  "one  can  forgive  a  true  man  any- 
thing." 

And  then  Euphranor  ask'd  me,  "  Did  I  not  remember 
Digby  himself  at  College  ?  —  perhaps  know  him  f " 

"  Not  that,"  I  answer'd,  but  remembered  him  very  well. 
"  A  grand,  swarthy  Fellow,  who  might  have  stept  out  of 
the  canvas  of  some  knightly  portrait  in  his  Father's 
hall  —  perhaps  the  living  image  of  one  sleeping  under 
some  cross-legg'd  Effigies  in  the  Church." 

"  And,  Hare  says,  really  the  Knight  at  heart  that  he 
represented  in  his  Books." 

"  At  least,"  I  answered,  "  he  pull'd  a  very  good  stroke 
on  this  river,  where  I  am  now  labouring  so  awkwardly." 


YV 

EUPHRAXOR.  255 

Iii  which  and  other  such  talk,  interrupted  by  the  little 
accidents  of  our  voyage,  we  had  threaded  our  way 
through  the  closely-packt  barges  at  Magdalen  ;  through 
the  Locks;  and  so  for  a  pull  of  three  or  four  miles 
down  the  river  and  back  again  to  the  Ferry  ;  where  we 
surrender'd  our  boat,  and  footed  it  over  the  fields  to 
Chesterton,  at  whose  Church  we  came  just  as  its  quiet 
chimes  were  preluding  Twelve  o'clock.  Close  by  was 
the  humble  house  whither  Lexilogus  was  bound.  I 
look'd  in  fora  moment  at  the  old  lady,  and  left  him  with 
her,  privately  desiring  him  to  join  us  as  soon  as  he  could 
at  the  Three  Tuns  Inn,  which  I  preferr'd  to  any  younger 
rival,  because  of  the  many  pleasant  hours  I  had  spent 
there  in  my  own  College  days,  some  twenty  years  ago. 

When  Euphraiior  and  I  got  there,  we  found  all  the 
tables  occupied;  but  one,  as  usual,  would  be  at  our  service 
before  long.  Meanwhile,  ordering  some  light  ale  after 
us,  we  went  into  the  Bowling-green,  with  its  Lilac  bushes 
now  in  full  bloom  and  full  odour  ;  and  there  we  found, 
sitting  alone  upon  a  bench,  Lycion,  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  and  rolling  the  bowls  about  lazily  with  his  foot. 

"  What !  Lycion  !  and  all  alone  !  "  I  call'd  out. 

He  nodded  to  us  both  —  waiting,  he  said,  till  some 
men  had  finish'd  a  pool  of  billiards  upstairs  —  a  great 
bore  — for  it  was  only  just  begun  !  and  one  of  the  fel- 
lows Tt  a  man  I  particularly  detest." 

"  Come  and  console  yourself  with  some  ale,  then," 
said  I.  "Are  you  ever  foolish  enough  to  go  pulling  on 
the  river,  as  we  have  been  doing?" 


256  EUPHRANOR. 

"  Not  very  often  in  hot  weather ;  he  did  not  see  the 
use/'  he  said,  "of  perspiring  to  no  purpose." 

"  Just  so,"  replied  I,  "  though  Euphranor  has  not 
turn'd  a  hair,  you  see,  owing  to  the  good  condition  he  is 
in.  But  here  comes  our  liquor  ;  and  '  Sweet  is  Pleasure 
after  Pain,'  at  any  rate.'' 

We  then  sat  down  in  one  of  those  little  arbours  cut 
into  the  Lilac  bushes  round  the  Bowling-green ;  and 
while  Euphranor  and  I  were  quaffing  each  a  glass  of 
Home-brew'd,  Lycion  took  up  the  volume  of  Digby, 
which  Euphranor  had  laid  on  the  table. 

u  Ah,  Lycion,"  said  Euphranor,  putting  down  his 
glass,  "  there  is  one  would  have  put  yon  up  to  a  longer 
and  stronger  pull  than  we  have  had  to-day." 

"  Chivalry—  -"  said  Lycion,  glancing  carelessly  over 
the  leaves ;  "  Don't  you  remember," —  addressing  me  — 
"  what  an  absurd  thing  that  Eglinton  Tournament  was  ? 
What  a  complete  failure !  There  was  the  Queen  of  Beauty 
on  her  throne  —  Lady  Seymour  —  who  alone  of  all  the 
whole  affair  was  not  a  .sham  —  and  the  Heralds,  and  the 
Knights  in  full  Armour  on  their  horses — they  had  been 
practising  for  months,  I  believe — but  unluckily,  at  the 
very  moment  of  Onset,  the  rain  began,  and  the  Knights 
threw  down  their  lances,  and  put  up  their  umbrellas/' 

I  laugh'd.  and  said  I  remembered  something  like  it 
had  occurr'd,  though  not  to  that  umbrella-point,  which 
I  thought  was  a  theatrical,  or  Louis  Philippe  Burlesque 
on  the  affair.  And  I  asked  Euphranor  "  what  he  had  to 
sav  in  defence  of  the  Tournament"? 


EUPHRANOR.  257 

" Nothing  at  all/'  he  replied.  "It  was  a  silly  thing, 
and  fit  to  be  laughed  at  for  the  very  reason  that  it  was 
a  sham,  as  Lycion  says.  As  Digby  himself  tells  us,"  he 
went  on,  taking  the  Book,  and  rapidly  turning  over  .the 
leaves  — "  Here  it  is  " —  and  he  read :  "  '  The  error  that 
leads  men  to  doubt  of  this  first  proposition' — that  is, 
you  know,  that  Chivalry  is  not  a  thing  past,  but,  like  all 
things  of  Beauty,  eternal  — '  the  error  that  leads  men  to 
doubt  of  this  first  proposition  consists  of  their  sup- 
posing that  Tournaments,  steel  Panoply,  and  Coat  arms, 
and  Aristocratic  institutions,  are  essential  to  Chivalry ; 
whereas,  these  are,  in  fact,  only  accidental  attendants 
upon  it,  subject  to  the  influence  of  Time,  which  changes 
all  such  things.' " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Lycion,  "  your  man  —  whatever  his 
name  is  —  would  carry  us  back  to  the  days  of  King 
Arthur,  and  the  Seven  Champions,  whenever  they 
were  —  that  one  used  to  read  about  when  a  Child J?  I 
thought  Don  Quixote  had  put  an  end  to  all  that  long 
ago." 

u  Well,  lie,  at  any  rate,"  said  Euphranor,  "  did  not 
depend  on  fine  Accoutrement  for  his  Chivalry." 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  "  but  did  he  not  believe  in  his  rusty 
armour  —  perhaps  even  the  paste-board  Visor  he  fitted 
to  it  —  as  impregnable  as  the  Cause " 

"  And  some  old  Barber's  bason  as  the  Helmet  of  Mam- 
brino,"  interposed  Lycion 

"And  his  poor  Rociuante  not  to  be  surpass'd  by  the 
Bavieca  of  the  Cid  ;  believed  in  all  this,  I  say,  as  really 


258  EUPHRANOR. 

as  in  the  Windmills  and  Wine-skins  being  the  Giants 
and  Sorcerers  he  was  to  annihilate ! " 

"  To  be  sure  he  did/'  said  Lycion  ;  "  but  Euphranor's 
Round-table  men  —  many  of  them  great  rascals,  I 
believe — knew  a  real  Dragon,  or  Giant — when  they 
met  him — better  than  Don  Quixote." 

"  Perhaps,  however,"  said  I,  who  saw  Euphranor's 
colour  rising,  "he  and  Digby  would  tell  us  that  all  such 
Giants  and  Dragons  may  be  taken  for  Symbols  of  cer- 
tain Forms  of  Evil  which  his  Knights  went  about  to 
encounter  and  exterminate." 

"  Of  course,"  saidEuphrauor,  with  an  indignant  snort, 
"  every  Child  knows  that :  then  as  now  to  be  met  with 
and  put  down  in  whatsoever  shapes  they  appear  as  long 
as  Tyranny  and  Oppression  exist." 

"Till  finally  extinguish t,  as  they  crop  up,  by  Euphra- 
nor  and  his  Successors,"  said  Lycion. 

"  Does  not  Carlyle  somewhere  talk  to  us  of  a  '  Chivalry 
of  Labour '  ? "  said  I ;  "  that  henceforward  not  'Arms 
and  the  Man,'  but  '  Tools  and  the  Man,'  are  to  furnish 
the  Epic  of  the  world." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Lycion,  "if  the  'Table-Round'  turn 
into  a  Tailor's  Board  — '  Charge,  Chester,  charge  ! '  say 
I  —  only  not  exorbitantly  for  the  Coat  you  provide  for 
us  —  which  indeed,  like  true  Knights,  I  believe  you 
should  provide  for  us  gratis." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  but  then 
You  must  not  sit  idle,  smoking  your  cigar,  in  the  inidst 
of  it ;  but.  as  your  Ancestors  led  on  mail'd  troops  at 


EUPHRANOR.  259 

Agincourt,  so  must  you  put  yourself,  shears  in  hand,  at 
the  head  of  this  Host,  and  become  what  Carlyle  calls  '  a 
Captain  of  Industry,'  a  Master- tailor,  leading  on  a  host 
of  Journeymen  to  fresh  fields  and  conquests  new." 

"  Besides,"  said  Euphranor,  who  did  not  like  Carlyle, 
nor  relish  this  sudden  descent  of  his  hobby,  "  surely 
Chivalry  will  never  want  a  good  Cause  to  maintain, 
whether  private  or  public.  As  Tennyson  says,  King 
Arthur,  who  was  carried  away  wounded  to  the  island 
valley  of  Avilion,  returns  to  us  in  the  shape  of  a  '  modern 
Gentleman '  ;  and,  the  greater  his  Power  and  oppor- 
tunity, the  more  demanded  of  him." 

"  Which  you  must  bear  in  mind,  Lycion,"  said  I,  "  if 
ever  you  come  to  legislate  for  us  in  your  Father's 
Borough." 

"  Or  out  of  it,  also,"  said  Euphranor,  "  with  something 
other  than  the  Doctor's  Shears  at  your  side  ;  as  in  case 
of  any  National  call  to  Arms." 

To  this  Lycion,  however,  only  turn'd  his  cigar  in  his 
mouth  by  way  of  reply,  and  look'd  somewhat  supercil- 
iously at  his  Antagonist.  And  I,  who  had  been  looking 
into  the  leaves  of  the  Book  that  Euphranor  had  left 
open,  said: 

u  Here  we  are,  as  usual,  discussing  without  having  yet 
agreed  on  the  terms  we  are  using.  Euphranor  has  told 
us,  011  the  word  of  his  Hero,  what  Chivalry  is  not :  let 
him  read  us  what  it  is  that  we  are  talking  about." 

I  then  handed  him  the  Book  to  read  to  us,  while 
Lycion,  lying  down  on  the  grass,  with  his  hat  over  his 


?tv 


260  EUPHRANOR. 

eyes,  composed  himself  to  inattention.  And  Euphranor 
read : 

"  l  Chivalry  is  only  a  name  for  that  general  Spirit  or 
state  of  mind  which  disposes  men  to  Generous  and 
Heroic  actions ;  and  keeps  them  conversant  with  all  that 
is  Beautiful  and  Sublime  in  the  Intellectual  and  Moral 
world.  It  will  be  found  that,  in  the  absence  of  conser- 
vative principles,  this  Spirit  more  generally  prevails  in 
Youth  than  in  the  later  periods  of  men's  life :  and,  as 
the  Heroic  is  always  the  earliest  age  in  the  history  of 
nations,  so  Youth,  the  first  period  of  life,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  Heroic  or  Chivalrous  age  of  each  separate 
Man ;  and  there  are  few  so  unhappy  as  to  have  grown 
up  without  having  experienced  its  influence,  and  having 
derived  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  enrich  their  im- 
agination, and  to  soothe  their  hours  of  sorrow,  with  its 
romantic  recollections.  The  Anglo-Saxons  distinguished 
the  period  between  Childhood  and  Manhood  by  the  term 
'  Cnihthad,'  Knighthood :  a  term  which  still  continued  to 
indicate  the  connexion  between  Youth  and  Chivalry, 
when  Knights  were  styled  '  Children,'  as  in  the  historic 
song  beginning 

"  Childe  Rowlande  to  the  dark  tower  canie,"- 

an  excellent  expression,  no  doubt ; —  for  every  Boy  and 
Youth  is,  in  his  mind  and  sentiment,  a  Knight,  and 
essentially  a  Son  of  Chivalry.  Nature  is  fine  in  him. 
Nothing  but  the  circumstances  of  a  singular  and  most 
degrading  system  of  Education  can  ever  totally  destroy 


EUPHRANOR,  261 

the  action  of  this  general  law*  Therefore,  so  long  as 
there  has  been,  or  shall  be,  a  succession  of  sweet  Springs 
in  Man's  Intellectual  "World  ;  as  long  as  there  have  been, 
or  shall  be,  Young  men  to  grow  up  to  maturity  ;  and 
until  all  Youthful  life  shall  be  dead,  and  its  source 
withered  up  for  ever  ;  so  long  must  there  have  been,  and 
must  there  continue  to  be,  the  spirit  of  noble  Chivalry. 
To  understand  therefore  this  first  and,  as  it  were,  natural 
Chivalry,  we  have  only  to  observe  the  features  of  the 
Youthful  age,  of  which  examples  surround  us.  For,  as 
Demipho  says  of  young  men  : 

"  Ecce  autem  similia  omnia  :   omnes  eongruunt  : 
Unum  cognoris,  omnes  noris." 

Mark  the  courage  of  him  who  is  green  and  fresh  in  the 
Old  world.  Amyntas  beheld  and  dreaded  the  insolence 
of  the  Persians;  bub  not  so  Alexander,  the  son  of 
Amyntas,  ais  vso?  rs  swv  xal  v.axwv  a-aO-TjC  (says  He- 
rodotus) o65a»j.wc  STI  xais/stv  610?  tz  yjv.  When  Jason  had 
related  to  his  companions  the  conditions  imposed  by  the 
King,  the  first  impression  was  that  of  horror  and 
despondency  ;  till  Peleus  rose  up  boldly,  and  said, 
iipYj  fAYjTiaaaOai  3  y'  i^ojxsv  ob  (u.sv  loXira 


'  If  Jason  be  unwilling  to  attempt  it,  I  and  the  rest  will 
undertake  the  enterprise  ;  for  what  more  can  we  suffer 
than  death  ?  '  And  then  instantly  rose  up  Tel  am  on  and 
Idas,  and  the  sons  of  Tyndarus,  and  CEnides,  although 

-  o'j   os  ~£o   o"ov  £-avOw(ovtac  looXoo? 


262  EUPHRANOR. 

But  Argus,  the  Nestor  of  the  party,  restrained  their  im- 
petuous valour.' " 

"  Scarce  the  Down  upon  their  lips,  you  see/'  (said  I,) 
"Freshmen; — so  that  you.  Euphranor,  who  are  now 
Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  whose  upper  lip  at  least  begins 
to  show  the  stubble  of  repeated  harvests,  are,  alas, 
fast  declining  from  that  golden  prime  of  Knighthood, 
while  Lycion  here,  whose  shavings  might  almost  be 
counted " 

Here  Lycion,  who  had  endured  the  reading  with  an 
occasional  yawn,  said  he  wish'd  "  those  fellows  upstairs 
would  finish  their  pool." 

"  And  see  again,"  continued  I,  taking  the  book  from 
Euphranor's  hands — "  after  telling  us  that  Chivalry  is 
mainly  but  another  name  for  Youth,  Digby  proceeds  to 
define  more  particularly  what  that  is — '  It  is  a  remark  of 
Lord  Bacon,  that  ''  for  the  Moral  part,  Youth  will  have 
the  pre-eminence,  as  Age  hath  for  the  Politic;  "  and  this 
has  always  been  the  opinion  which  is  allied  to  that  other 
belief,  that  the  Heroic  (the  Homeric  age)  was  the  most 
Virtuous  age  of  Greece.  When  Demosthenes  was  desir- 
ous of  expressing  any  great  and  generous  sentiment,  he 
uses  the  term  vsavtxov  'f  povr^j.a ' —  and  by  the  way,"  added 
I,  looking  up  parenthetically  from  the  book,  "  the  Per- 
sians, I  am  told,  employ  the  same  word  for  Youth  and 
Courage — 'and  it  is  the  saying  of  Plautus  when  surprise 
is  evinced  at  the  Benevolence  of  an  old  man.  "  Benigni- 
tas  Imjus  ut  Adolescentuli  est."  There  is  no  difference, 
says  the  Philosopher,  between  Youthful  Age  and  Youth - 


EUPHRANOR.  263 

f  ul  Character ;  and  what  this  is  cannot  be  better  evinced 
than  in  the  very  words  of  Aristotle  :  "  The  Young  are 
ardent  in  Desire,  and  what  they  do  is  from  Affection  ; 
they  are  tractable  and  delicate ;  they  earnestly  desire 
and  are  easily  appeased ;  their  wishes  are  intense, 
without  comprehending  much,  as  the  thirst  and  hunger 
of  the  weary ;  they  are  passionate  and  hasty,  and  liable 
to  be  surprised  by  anger ;  for  being  ambitious  of  Hon- 
our, they  cannot  endure  to  be  despised,  but  are  indig- 
nant when  they  suffer  injustice  :  they  love  Honour,  but 
still  more  Victory ;  for  Youth  desires  superiority,  and 
victory  is  superiority,  and  both  of  these  they  love  more 
than  Riches  ;  for  as  to  these,  of  all  things,  they  care  for 
them  the  least.  They  are  not  of  corrupt  manners,  but 
are  Innocent,  from  not  having  beheld  much  wickedness  ; 
and  they  are  credulous,  from  having  been  seldom 
deceived ;  and  Sanguine  in  hope,  for,  like  persons  who 
are  drunk  with  wine,  they  are  inflamed  by  nature,  and 
from  their  having  had  but  little  experience  of  Fortune. 
And  they  live  by  Hope,  for  Hope  is  of  the  future,  but 
Memory  is  of  the  past,  and  to  Youth  the  Future  is 
everything,  the  Past  but  little ;  they  hope  all  things, 
and  remember  nothing  :  and  it  is  easy  to  deceive  them, 
for  the  reasons  which  have  been  given ;  for  they  are 
willing  to  hope,  and  are  full  of  Courage,  being  passion- 
ate and  hasty,  of  which  tempers  it  is  the  nature  of  one 
not  to  fear,  and  of  the  other  to  inspire  confidence  ;  and 
thus  are  easily  put  to  Shame,  for  they  have  no  resources 
to  set  aside  the  precepts  which  they  have  learned :  and 

r^,.  1*: 


264  EUPHRANOR, 

they  have  lofty  souls,  for  they  have  never  been  dis- 
graced or  brought  low ;  and  they  are  unacquainted  with 
Necessity;  they  prefer  Honour  to  Advantage,  Virtue  to 
Expediency ;  for  they  live  by  Affection  rather  than  by 
Reason,  and  Reason  is  concerned  with  Expediency,  but 
Affection  with  Honour :  and  they  are  warm  friends  and 
hearty  companions,  more  than  other  men,  because  they 
delight  in  Fellowship,  and  judge  of  nothing  by  Utility, 
and  therefore  not  their  friends  ;  and  they  chiefly  err  in 
doing  all  things  over  much,  for  they  keep  no  medium. 
They  love  much,  and  they  dislike  much,  and  so  in  every- 
thing, and  this  arises  from  their  idea  that  they  know 
everything.  And  their  faults  consist  more  in  Insolence 
than  in  actual  wrong;  and  they  are  full  of  Mercy, 
because  they  regard  all  men  as  good,  and  more  virtuous 
than  they  are ;  for  they  measure  others  by  their  own 
Innocence;  so  that  they  suppose  every  man  suffers 
wrongfully." '  So  that  Lyciou,  you  see,"  said  I,  looking 
up  from  the  book,  and  tapping  on  the  top  of  his  hat, 
"  is,  in  virtue  of  his  eighteen  Summers  only,  a  Knight 
of  Nature's  own  dubbing — yes,  and  here  we  have  a 
list  of  the  very  qualities  which  constitute  him  one 
of  the  Order.  And  all  the  time  he  is  pretending 
to  be  careless,  indolent,  and  worldly,  he  is  really 
bursting  with  suppressed  Energy,  Generosity,  and  De- 
votion." 

"I  did  not  try  to  understand  your  English  any  more 
than  your  Greek,"  said  Lycion ;  "  but  if  I  can't  help 
being  the  very  fine  Fellow  whom  I  think  you  were 


EUPHRANOR.  265 

reading  about,  why,  I  want  to  know  what  is  the  use  of 
writing  books  about  it  for  my  edification." 

"  O  yes,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  I,  "it  is  like  giving  you 
an  Inventory  of  your  goods,  which  else  you  lose,  or  even 
fling  away,  in  your  march  to  Manhood — which  you  are 
so  eager  to  reach.  Only  to  repent  when  gotten  there ; 
for  I  see  Digby  goes  on — 'What  is  termed  Entering 
the  World' — which  Manhood  of  course  must  do — 'as- 
suming its  Principles  and  Maxims' — which  usually 
follows — 4s  nothing  else  but  departing  into  those 
regions  to  which  the  souls  of  the  Homeric  Heroes  went 
sorrowing — 

*&v  TiOTjjiov  YOOCUGOC,  Xwtoos'  avopotrjTa  y.al  Y^YJV.'  " 

"  Ah,  you  remember,"  said  Euphranor,  "how  Lamb's 
friend,  looking  upon  the  Eton  Boys  in  their  Cricket- 
field,  sighed  'to  think  of  so  many  fine  Lads  so  soon 
turning  into  frivolous  Members  of  Parliament ! ' ' 

"  But  why  'frivolous '? "  said  Lycion. 

"  Ay,  why  '  frivolous'  f  "  echoed  I,  "when  entering  on 
the  Field  where,  Euphranor  tells  us,  their  Knightly 
service  may  be  call'd  into  action." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Euphranor,  "  entering  before  suf- 
ficiently equip p'd  for  that  part  of  their  calling." 

"  Well,"  said  Lycion,  "  the  Laws  of  England  deter- 
mine otherwise,  and  that  is  enough  for  me,  and,  I  sup- 
pose, for  her,  whatever  your  ancient  or  modem  pedants 
say  to  the  contrary." 

"You  mean,"  said  I,  "in  settling  Twenty-one  as  the 


266  EUPHRANOR. 

Age  of  '  Discretion,'  sufficient  to  manage,  not  your  own 
affairs  only,  but  those  of  the  Nation  also  ?  " 

The  hat  nodded. 

"Not  yet,  perhaps,  accepted  for  a  Parliamentary 
Knight  complete,"  said  I,  "  so  much  as  Squire  to  some 
more  experienced,  if  not  more  valiant,  Leader.  Only 
providing  that  Neoptolemus  do  not  fall  into  the  hands 
of  a  too  politic  Ulysses,  and  under  him  lose  that  gen- 
erous Moral,  whose  Inventory  is  otherwise  apt  to  get 
lost  among  the  benches  of  St.  Stephen's  —  in  spite  of 
preliminary  Prayer." 

"Aristotle's  Master,  I  think,''  added  Euphranor,  with 
some  mock  gravity,  "  would  not  allow  any  to  become 
Judges  in  his  Republic  till  near  to  middle  life,  lest 
acquaintance  with  Wrong  should  harden  them  into  a  dis- 
trust of  Humanity  :  and  acquaintance  with  Diplomacy 
is  said  to  be  little  less  dangerous." 

"•  Though,  by-the-way,"  interposed  I,  "  was  not  Plato's 
Master  accused  of  perplexing  those  simple  Affections 
and  Impulses  of  Youth  by  his  Dialectic,  and  making 
premature  Sophists  of  the  Etonians  of  Athens  ?  " 

''  By  Aristophanes,  you  mean,''  said  Euphranor,  with 
no  mock  gravity  now;  "  whose  gross  caricature  help'd 
Anytus  and  Co.  to  that  Accusation  which  ended  in  the 
murder  of  the  best  and  wisest  Man  of  all  Antiquity." 

"Well,  perhaps,"  said  I,  uhe  had  been  sufficiently 
punish'd  by  that  termagant  Wife  of  his  —  whom,  by- 
the-way,  he  may  have  taught  to  argue  with  him  instead 
of  to  obey.  Just  as  that  Son  of  poor  old  Strepsiades,  in 


EUPHRANOR.  267 

what  you  call  the  Aristophanic  Caricature,  is  taught  to 
rebel  against  parental  authority,  instead  of  doing  as  he 
was  bidden ;  as  he  would  himself  have  the  Horses  to  do 
that  he  was  spending  so  much  of  his  Father's  money 
upon :  and  as  we  would  have  our  own  Horses,  Dogs, 
and  Children, —  and  young  Knights." 

"  You  have  got  your  Heroes  into  fine  company,  Eu- 
phranor,"  said  Lycion,  who,  while  seeming  inattentive 
to  all  that  went  against  him,  was  quick  enough  to  catch 
at  any  turn  in  his  favour. 

"  Why,  let  me  see,"  said  I,  taking  up  the  book  again, 
and  running  my  eye  over  the  passage — "yes, — 'Ardent  of 
desire,' — ' ''Tractable,' — some  of  them  at  least — 'Without 
comprehending  much' — 'Ambitious' — 'Despisers  of  Riches' 
— 'Warm  friends  and  hearty  companions''  —  really  very 
characteristic  of  the  better  breed  of  Dogs  and  Horses. 
And  why  not?  The  Horse,  you  know,  has  given  his 
very  name  to  Chivalry,  because  of  his  association  in 
the  Heroic  Enterprises  of  Men, — El  mas  Hidalgo  Bruto, 
Calderon  calls  him.  He  was  sometimes  buried,  I  think, 
along  with  our  heroic  Ancestors — just  as  some  favour- 
ite wife  was  buried  along  with  her  husband  in  the  East. 
So  the  Muse  sings  of  those  who  believe  their  faithful 
Dog  will  accompany  them  to  the  World  of  Spirits  —  as 
even  some  wise  and  good  Christian  men  have  thought  it 
not  impossible  he  may,  not  only  because  of  his  Moral, 
but " 

"  Well,"  said  Euphranor,  "  we  need  not  trouble  our- 
selves about  carrying  the  question  quite  so  far." 


268  EUPHRANOR, 

11  Oh,  do  not  drop  your  poor  kinsman  just  when  you 
are  going  into  good  Company/'  said  Lycion, 

"  By-the-way,  Lycion/''  said  I,  "  has  not  your  Parlia- 
ment a  '  Whipper-in'  of  its  more  dilatory  members—  or 
of  those  often  of  the  younger  ones,  I  think,  who  may  be 
diverting  themselves  with  some  stray  scent  elsewhere?" 

To  this  he  only  replied  with  a  long  whiff  from  his 
Cigar  ;  but  Euphranor  said  : 

"  Well,  come,  Lycion,  let  us  take  the  Doctor  at 
his  word,  and  turn  it  against  himself.  For  if  you 
and  I,  in  virtue  of  our  Youth,  are  so  inspired  with  all 
this  Moral  that  he  talks  of  —  why,  we  —  or,  rather, 
you  —  are  wanted  in  Parliament,  not  only  to  follow 
like  Dog  and  Horse,  as  he  pretends,  but  also  to  take 
the  lead;  so  as  the  Generous  counsel,  the  vsav.xov 
s.oovYjfia,  °f  Youth,  may  vivify  and  ennoble  the  cold 
Politic  of  Age." 

"  Well,  I  remember  hearing  of  a  young  Senator," 
said  I,  "  who  in  my  younger  days  was  celebrated  for 
his  faculty  of  Cock-crowing  by  way  of  waking  up  his 
more  drowsy  Seniors,  I  suppose,  about  the  small  hours 
of  the  morning  —  or,  perhaps,  in  token  of  Victory  over 
an  unexpected  Minority." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Euphranor,  laughing,  "  I  mean  seri- 
ously; as  in  the  passage  we  read  from  Digby,  Amyntas, 
the  Man  of  Policy,  was  wrong,  and  his  son  Alexander 
right," 

But  oddly  enough,  as  I  remembered  the  story  in 
Herodotus,  by  a  device  which  smack'd  more  of  Policy 


^"~* 


EUPHRANOR.  269 

than  Generosity.  "  But  in  the  other  case,  Argus,  I  sup- 
pose, was  not  so  wrong  in  restraining  the  impetu- 
osity of  his  Youthful  Crew,  who, —  is  it  not  credibly 
thought! — would  have  faiPd,  but  for  Medea's  unex- 
pected magical  assistance  ? " 

Euphranor  was  not  clear  about  this. 

"  Besides/'  said  I,  "does  not  this  very  vsav.xov  ^ovr^a 
of  yours  result  from  that  vsavixov  condition  —  I6oc,  do 
you  call  it  ?  —  of  Body,  in  which  Youth  as  assuredly 
profits  as  in  the  Moral,  and  which  assuredly  flows,  as 
from  a  Fountain  of  '  Jouvence  that  rises  and  runs  in  the 
open'  Field  rather  than  in  the  Hall  of  St.  Stephen's, 
where  indeed  it  is  rather  likely  to  get  clogg'd,  if  not 
altogether  dried  up  ?  As,  for  instance,  Animal  Spirit, 
Animal  Courage,  Sanguine  Temper,  and  so  forth  —  all 
which,  by  the  way,  says  Aristotle,  inflame  Youth  not  at 
all  like  Reasonable  people,  but  '  like  persons  drunk  with 
tvine '  —  all  which,  for  better  or  worse,  is  fermented  by 
Cricket  from  good  Roast  Beef  into  pure  Blood,  Muscle  — 
and  Moral." 

"  Chivalry  refined  into  patent  Essence  of  Beef !  "  said 
Euphranor,  only  half-amused. 

"  I  hope  you  like  the  taste  of  it,"  said  Lycion,  under 
his  hat. 

u  Well,  at  any  rate,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  those  young 
Argonauts  needed  a  good  stock  of  it  to  work  a  much 
heavier  craft  than  we  have  been  pulling  to-day,  when 
the  wind  fail'd  them.  And  yet,  with  all  their  animal 
Inebriation  —  wheucesoever  derived  —  so  tractable  in 


270  EUPHRANOR. 

their  Moral  as  to  submit  at  once  to  their  Politic  Leader 
—  Argus,  was  it  not  I " 

" '  The  Nestor  of  the  Party/  Digby  calls  him,"  said 
Euphranor,  u  good,  old,  garrulous,  Nestor,  whom,  some- 
how, I  think  one  feels  to  feel  more  at  home  with  than 
any  of  the  Homeric  Heroes. 

"Aye,  he  was  entitled  to  crow  in  the  Grecian  Parlia- 
ment, fine  i  Old  Cock '  as  he  was,  about  the  gallant 
exploits  of  his  Youth,  being  at  threescore  so  active  in 
Body  as  in  Spirit,  that  Agamemnon  declares,  I  think, 
that  Troy  would  soon  come  down  had  he  but  a  few 
more  such  Generals.  Ah  yes,  Euphranor!  could  one 
by  so  full  Apprenticeship  of  Youth  become  so  thor- 
oughly season'd  with  its  Spirit,  that  all  the  Reason  of 
Manhood,  and  Politic  of  Age,  and  Experience  of  the 
World,  should  serve  not  to  freeze,  but  to  direct,  the 
genial  Current  of  the  Soul,  so  that  — 

'  Ev'n  while  the  vital  Heat  retreats  below, 
Ev'n  while  the  hoary  head  is  lost  in  Snow, 
The  Life  is  in  the  leaf,  and  still  between 
The  fits  of  falling  Snow  appears  the  streaky  Green  '- 

that  Boy's  Heart  within  the  Man's  never  ceasing  to 
throb  and  tremble,  even  to  remotest  Age  —  then  in- 
deed your  Senate  would  need  no  other  Youth  than 
its  Elders  to  vivify  their  counsel,  or  could  admit  the 
Young  without  danger  of  corrupting  them  by  ignoble 
Policy. 

u  Well,  come,"  said  Euphranor  gaily,  after  my  rather 
sententious  peroration,  "  Lycion  need  not  be  condemn'd 


EUPHRANOR.  271 

to  enter  Parliament  —  or  even  ;  The  World '  —  unless 
he  pleases,  for  some  twenty  years  to  come,  if  he  will  fol- 
low Pythagoras,  who,  you  know,  Doctor,  devotes  the 
first  forty  years  of  his  Man's  allotted  Eighty  to  Child- 
hood and  Youth ;  a  dispensation  which  you  and  I  at 
least  shall  not  quarrel  with." 

"  No,  nor  anyone  else,  I  should  suppose,"  said  I. 
"  Think,  my  dear  Lycion,  what  a  privilege  for  you  to 
have  yet  more  than  twenty  good  years'  expatiation  in 
the  Elysian  Cricket-field  of  Youth  before  pent  up  in 
that  Close  Borough  of  your  Father's  !  And  Euphranor, 
whom  we  thought  fast  slipping  out  of  his  Prime  as  his 
Youth  attained  a  beard,  is  in  fact  only  just  entering 
upon  it.  And,  most  wonderful  of  all,  I,  who  not  only 
have  myself  enter'd  the  World,  but  made  my  bread  by 
bringing  others  into  it  these  fifteen  years,  have  myself 
only  just  ceased  to  be  a  Boy  !  " 

What  reply  Lycion  might  have  deign'd  to  all  this,  I 
know  not ;  for  just  now  one  of  his  friends  looked  out 
again  from  the  Billiard-room  window,  and  called  out  to 
him,  ''  the  coast  was  clear.''  On  which  Lycion  getting 
up,  and  muttering  something  about  its  being  a  pity  we 
did  not  go  back  to  Trap-ball,  and  I  retorting  that  we 
could  carry  it  forward  into  Life  with  us,  he  carelessly 
nodded  to  us  both,  and  with  an  "Au  Ret'oh-"1  lounged 
with  his  Cigar  into  the  house. 

Then  Euphranor  and  I  took  each  a  draught  of  the 
good  liquor  which  Lycion  had  declined  to  share  with 
us  ;  and,  on  setting  down  his  tumbler,  he  said  : 


272  EUPHRAXOR. 

"  Ah !  you  should  have  heard  our  friend  Skythrops 
commenting  on  that  Inventory  of  Youth,  as  you  call  it, 
which  he  happen'd  to  open  upon  in  my  rooms  the  other 
day." 

"  Perhaps  the  book  is  rather  apt  to  open  there  of  its 
own  accord,"  said  I.  '"Well  —  and  what  did  old  Sky- 
throps say ! " 

"Oh,  you  may  anticipate  —  'the  same  old  Heathen 
talk/ he  said — 'very  well  for  a  Pagan  to  write,  and  a  Pa- 
pist to  quote — '  and,  according  to  you,  Doctor,  for  Horse 
and  Dog  to  participate  in,  and  for  Bullock  to  supply." 

"But  I  had  been  mainly  bantering  Lycion,"  I  said; 
"  as  Euphranor  also,  I  supposed  with  his  Pythagorean 
disposition  of  Life.  Lycion  would  not  much  have  cared 
had  I  derived  them  from  the  angels.  As  for  that  Ani- 
mal condition  to  which  I  had  partly  referr'd  them,  we 
Doctors  were  of  old  notorious  on  that  score,  not  choos- 
ing your  Moralist  and  Philosopher  to  carry  off  all  the 
fee.  But  'The  Cobbler  to  his  Last'  —  or,  the  Tailor  to 
his  Goose,  if  I  might  be  call'd  in,  as  only  I  profess'd,  to 
accommodate  the  outer  Man  with  what  Sterne  calls  his 
Jerkin,  leaving  its  Lining  to  your  Philosopher  and 
Divine." 

"Sterne!"  ejaculated  Euphranor;  "just  like  him  — 
Soul  and  Body  all  of  a  piece." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  I,  laughing;  "your  Lining  is  often 
of  a  finer  material,  you  know." 

"  And  often  of  a  coarser,  as  in  Sterne's  own  case,  I 
believe." 


EUPHBANOR. 


273 


"  Well,  then,  I  would  turn  Mason,  or  Bricklayer,"  I 
said;  "and  confine  myself  to  the  House  of  Clay,  in 
which,  as  the  Poets  tell  us,  the  Soul  is  Tenant — "The 
Body's  Guest ' —  as  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  calls  him ;  would 
that  do  ? " 

"  Better,  at  any  rate,  than  Jerkin  and  Lining." 
But  here  the  same  difficulty  presented  itself.  For, 
however  essentially  distinct,  the  Tenant  from  his  Lodg- 
ing, his  Health,  as  we  of  the  material  Faculty  believed, 
in  some  measure  depended  on  the  salubrity  of  the  House, 
in  which  he  is  not  merely  a  Guest,  but  a  Prisoner,  and 
from  which  I  knew  Euphranor  thought  he  was  forbid- 
den to  escape  by  any  violent  self-extrication.  Dryden 
indeed  tells  us  of  — 

"A  fiery  Soul  that,  working  out  its  way, 
Fretted  the  pigmy  Body  to  decay, 
And  o'er-informed  the  Tenement  of  Clay."- 

li  But  that  was  the  Soul  of  an  Achitophel,"  Euphranor 
argued,  "  whose  collapse,  whether  beginning  from  within 
or  without,  was  of  less  than  little  moment  to  the  world. 
But  the  truly  grand  Soul  possesses  himself  in  peace,  or, 
if  he  suffer  from  self -neglect,  or  over-exertion  in  striv- 
ing after  the  good  of  others — why,  that  same  Dryden 
—  or  Waller,  it  may  be  —  says  that  such  an  one  be- 
comes, not  weaker,  but  stronger,  by  that  Bodily  decay, 
whether  of  Infirmity,  or  of  Old  Age,  which  lets  in  new 
light  through  the  chinks  of  dilapidation  —  if  not,  as  my 
loftier  Wordsworth  has  it,  some  rays  of  that  Original 


18 


274  EUPHRANOR, 

Glory  which  he  brought  with  him  to  be  darken'd  in  the 
Body  at  Birth." 

"  But  then/'  I  said,  "  if  your  crazy  Cottage  won't  fall 
to  pieces  at  once,  but,  after  the  manner  of  creaking 
gates,  go  creaking  —  or,  as  the  Sailors  say  of  their  boats, 
1  complaining '  on  — making  the  Tenant,  and  most  likely 
all  his  Neighbours,  complain  also,  and  perpetually  call- 
ing on  the  Tenant  for  repairs,  and  this  when  he  wants 
to  be  about  other  more  important  Business  of  his  own  ? 
To  think  how  much  time — and  patience  —  a  Divine 
Soul  has  to  waste  over  some  little  bit  of  Cheese,  per- 
haps, that,  owing  to  bad  drainage,  will  stick  in  the 
stomach  of  an  otherwise  Seraphic  Doctor." 

Euphranor  laughed  a  little ;  and  I  went  on :  "  Better 
surely,  for  all  sakes,  to  build  up  for  her — as  far  as  we 
may — for  we  cannot  yet  ensure  the  foundation  —  a 
spacious,  airy,  and  wholesome  Tenement  becoming  so 
Divine  a  Tenant,  of  so  strong  a  foundation  and  ma- 
sonry as  to  resist  the  wear  and  tear  of  Elements  with- 
out, and  herself  within.  Yes ;  and  a  handsome  house 
withal  —  unless  indeed  you  think  the  handsome  Soul 
will  fashion  that  about  herself  from  within  —  like  a 
shell —  which,  so  far  as  her  Top-storey,  where  she  is 
supposed  chiefly  to  reside,  I  think  may  be  the  case." 

"  Ah,"  said  Euphranor,  "  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  human  Souls,  as  I  think,  could  scarce  accomplish  that." 

"  Socrates  ? "  said  I.  "  No  ;  but  did  not  he  profess 
that  his  Soul  was  naturally  an  ugly  soul  to  begin  with  ? 
So,  by  the  time  he  had  beautified  her  within,  it  was  too 


EUPHRANOR.  275 

late  to  re-front  her  Outside,  which  had  case-hardened,  I 
suppose.  But  did  not  he  accompany  Alcibiades,  not 
only  because  of  his  Spiritual,  but  also  of  his  Physical 
Beauty,  in  which,  as  in  the  Phidian  statues,  the  Divine 
Original  of  Man  was  supposed  to  reflect  Himself,  and 
which  has  been  accepted  as  such  by  Christian  Art,  and 
indeed  by  all  Peoples  who  are  furthest  removed  from 
that  of  the  Beast  f " 

"  Even  of  Dog  and  Horse  ?  "  said  Euphranor,  smiling. 

"Even  my  sturdy  old  Philosopher  Montaigne — who, 
by  the  way,  declares  that  he  rates  '  La  Beaute  a  deux 
doigts  de  la  Bonte  .  .  .  non  seulement  aux  homines  qui 
me  servent,  mais  aux  betes  aussi7  —  quotes  Aristotle, 
saying  that  we  owe  a  sort  of  Homage  to  those  who 
resemble  the  Statues  of  the  Gods  as  to  the  Statues 
themselves.  And  thus  Socrates  may  have  felt  about 
Alcibiades,  who,  in  those  earlier  and  better  days  when 
Socrates  knew  him,  might  almost  be  taken  as  a  counter- 
part of  the  Picture  of  Youth,  with  all  its  Virtues  and 
defects,  which  Aristotle  has  drawn  for  us." 

"  Or,  what  do  you  say,  Doctor,  to  Aristotle's  own  Pupil, 
Alexander,  who  turned  out  a  yet  more  astonishing  Phe- 
nomenon ?  —  I  wonder,  Doctor,  what  you,  with  all  your 
theories,  would  have  done  had  such  an  '  Enfant  terrible ' 
as  either  of  them  been  put  into  your  hands." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  I  should  have  the  advantage  of 
first  laying  hold  of  him  on  coming  into  the  World, 
which  was  not  the  case  with  Aristotle,  or  with  the 
Doctors  of  his  time,  was  it  ? " 


276  EUPHRANOR. 

Eupliranor  thought  not. 

u  However,  I  know  not  yet  whether  I  have  ever  had 
an  Infant  Hero  of  any  kind  to  "deal  with ;  none,  cer- 
tainly, who  gave  any  indication  of  any  such  '  clouds  of 
glory '  as  your  Wordsworth  tells  of,  even  when  just 
arrived  from  their  several  homes  —  in  Alexander's  case, 
of  a  somewhat  sulphureous  nature,  according  to  Sky- 
throps,  I  doubt.  No,  nor  of  any  young  Wordsworth 
neither  under  our  diviner  auspices." 

"  Nay,  but,"  said  Euphranor,  "  he  tells  us  that  '  our 
Birth  is  but  a  Sleep  and  a  forgetting'  of  something 
which  must  take  some  waking-time  to  develop." 

"  But  which,  if  I  remember  aright,  is  to  begin  to  darken 
'  with  shades  of  the  Prison-house,'  as  Wordsworth  calls 
it,  that  begin  to  close  about  '  the  growing  Boy.'  But  I 
am  too  much  of  a  Philistine,  as  you  Germans  have  it,  to 
comprehend  the  Transcendental.  All  I  know  is,  that  I 
have  not  yet  detected  any  signs  of  the  l  Heaven  that  lies 
about  our  Infancy,'  nor  for  some  while  after  —  no,  not 
even  peeping  through  those  windows  through  which  the 
Soul  is  said  more  immediately  to  look,  but  as  yet  with 
no  more  speculation  in  them  than  those  of  the  poor 
whelp  of  the  Dog  we  talked  of  —  in  spite  of  a  nine  days' 
start  of  him." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Euphranor,  UI  have  heard  tell 
of  another  Poet's  saying  that  he  knew  of  no  human  out- 
look so  solemn  as  that  from  an  Infant's  Eyes ;  and  how 
it  was  from  those  of  his  own  he  learn'd  that  those  of 
the  Divine  Child  in  Raffaelle's  Sistine  Madonna  were 


EUPHRANOR.  277 

not  over-charged  with  expression,  as  he  had  previously 
thought  they  might  be." 

"  I  think/''  said  I,  "  you  must  have  heard  of  that  from 
me,  who  certainly  did  hear  something  like  it  from  the 
Poet  himself,  who  used  to  let  fall  —  not  lay  down  —  the 
word  that  settled  the  question,  aesthetic  or  other,  which 
others  hammer'  d  after  in  vain.  Yes  ;  that  was  on  occa- 
sion, I  think,  of  his  having  watch'd  his  Child  one  morn- 
ing 'worshipping  the  Sunbeam  on  the  Bed-post'  —  Isuppose 
the  worship  of  Wonder,  such  as  I  have  heard  grown-up 
Children  tell  of  at  first  sight  of  the  Alps,  or  Niagara  ; 
or  such  stay-at-home  Islanders  as  ourselves  at  first  sight 
of  the  Sea,  from  such  a  height  as  Flamborough  Head." 

"  Some  farther-seeing  Wonder  than  dog  or  kitten  is 
conscious  of,  at  any  rate,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  Ah,  who  knows  ?  I  have  seen  both  of  them  watch- 
ing that  very  Sunbeam  too  —  the  Kitten  perhaps  play- 
ing with  it,  to  be  sure.  If  but  the  Philosopher  or  Poet 
could  live  in  the  Child's  or  kitten's  Brain  for  a  while  ! 
The  Bed-post  Sun-worship,  however,  was  of  a  Child  of 
several  months  —  and  Raffaelle's  —  a  full  year  old,  would 
you  say  ?  " 

"  Nay,  you  know  about  such  matters  better  than  I," 
said  Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  Well,  however  it  may  be  with  young  Wordsworth, 
Raffaelle's  child  certainly  was  'drawing  Clouds  of  Glory' 
from  His  Home,  and  we  may  suppose  him  conscious  of 
it  —  yes,  and  of  his  Mission  to  dispense  that  glory  to 
the  World.  And  I  remember  how  the  same  Poet  also 


/ 


278  EUPHRANOR. 

noticed  the  Attitude  of  the  Child,  which  might  other- 
wise seem  somewhat  too  magisterial  for  his  age." 

Euphranor  knew  the  Picture  by  Engraving  only;  but 
he  observed  how  the  Divine  Mother's  eyes  also  were 
dilated,  not  as  with  Human  Mother's  Love,  but  as  with 
awe  and  Wonder  at  the  Infant  she  was  presenting 
to  the  World,  as  if  silently  saying,  "  Behold  your 
King!" 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  do  not  some  of  you  believe  the 
'Clouds  of  Glory'  to  have  been  drawn  directly  from 
herself  I " 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,  Doctor — you  know  better,  as 
did  Raffaelle  also,  I  believe,  in  spite  of  the  Pope." 

"Well,  well,"  said  I,  "your  Wordsworth  Boy  has  also 
his  Divine  Mission  to  fulfil  in  confessing  that  of  Raf- 
faelle's.  But,  however  it  may  be  with  that  Mother  and 
Child,  does  not  one — of  your  Germans,  I  think  —  say 
that,  with  us  mortals,  it  is  from  the  Mother's  eyes  that 
Religion  dawns  into  the  Child's  Soul!  —  the  Religion 
of  Love,  at  first,  I  suppose,  in  gratitude  for  the  flowing 
breast  and  feeding  hand  below." 

"  Perhaps  —  in  some  degree,"  said  Euphranor.  "As 
you  were  saying  of  that  Sun-worshipper,  one  cannot 
fathom  how  far  the  Child  may  see  into  the  Mother's 
eyes  any  more  than  all  that  is  to  be  read  in  them." 

"  To  be  developed  between  them  thereafter,  I  suppose," 
said  I,  "  when  the  Mother's  lips  interpret  the  Revelation 
of  her  Eyes,  and  lead  up  from  her  Love  to  the  percep- 
tion of  some  Invisible  Parent  of  all." 


SB: 


EUPHRANOR.  279 

"Ah,"  said  Euphranor,  "  how  well  I  remember  learn- 
ing to  repeat  after  her,  every  morning  and  night,  '  Our 
Father  which  art  in  Heaven.'  " 

"  In  your  little  white  Surplice,  like  Sir  Joshua's  little 
Samuel  —  on  whom  the  Light  is  dawning  direct  from 
Heaven,  I  think  —  from  Him  to  whom  you  were  half- 
articulately  praying  to  'make  me  a  dood  Boy  '  to  them. 
And,  by-and-by,  Watts  and  Jane  Taylor's,  of  the  Star 
Daisy  in  the  grass,  and  the  Stars  in  Heaven, 

'  For  ever  singing  as  they  shine, 
The  Hand  that  made  us  is  Divine.'  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Euphranor,  "  and  beautiful  some  of  those 
early  things  of  Watts  and  Jane  Taylor  are.  They  run 
in  my  head  still." 

"  As  why  should  they  not  ?  "  said  I,  "  you  being  yet  in 
your  Childhood,  you  know.  Why,  I,  who  have  left  it 
some  way  behind  me,  but,  to  be  sure,  constantly  re- 
minded of  them  in  the  nurseries  I  am  so  often  call'd  into 
from  which  they  are  not  yet  banisht  by  more  aesthetic 
verse.  As  also,  I  must  say,  of  some  yet  more  early,  and 
profane,  such  as  '  Rock-a-bye  Baby  on  the  Tree-top,' 
with  that  catastrophe  which  never  fail'd  to  '  bring  the 
House  down'  along  with  the  Bough  which  is,  —  Mother's 
Arms.  Then  there  was  '  Little  Bopeep  whose  stray 
flock  came  back  to  her  of  themselves,  carrying  their 
tails  behind  them'  —  and  'Little  Boy  Blue'  who  was 
less  fortunate.  Ah,  what  a  pretty  little  picture  he 
makes  '  under  the  havcock  '  —  like  one  of  vour  Greek 


280  EUPHRANOR. 

Idylls,  I  think,  and  quite  '  suitable  to  this  present  Month 
of  May/  as  old  Izaak  says.  Let  me  hear  if  you  remem- 
ber it,  Sir." 

And  Euphraiior,  like  a  good  boy,  repeated  the  verses.* 
"  And  then,"  said  I,  "  the  echoes  of  those  old  London 
Bells  whose  Ancestors  once  recalFd  Whittington  back 
to  be  their  Lord  Mayor  :  and  now  communicating  from 
their  several  Steeples  as  to  how  the  account  with  St. 
Clement's  was  to  be  paid  —  which,  by-the-by,  I  remem- 
ber being  thus  summarily  settled  by  an  old  College 
Friend  of  mine  — 

'  Confound  you  all  ! 
Said  the  Great  Bell  of  Paul'; 

only,  I  am  afraid,  with  something  more  —  Athanasian 
than  '  Confound  '  —  though  he  was  not  then  a  Dignitary 
of  the  Church.  Then  that  Tragedy  of  '  Cock  Robin  '  — 
the  Fly  that  saw  it  with  that  little  Eye  of  his  —  and  the 
Owl  with  his  spade  and  '  Skowl'  —  proper  old  word  that 
too  —  and  the  Bull  who  the  Bell  could  pull  —  and  —  but 
I  doubt  whether  you  will  approve  of  the  Rook  reading 
the  Burial  Service,  nor  do  I  like  bringing  the  Lark, 
only  for  a  rhyme's  sake,  down  from  Heaven,  to  make 
the  responses.  And  all  this  illustrated  by  appropriate 

*  "  Little  Boy  Blue,  come  blow  your  horn  ; 

The  Cow's  in  the  meadow,  the  Sheep  in  the  corn. 
Is  this  the  way  you  mind  your  Sheep, 
Under  the  haycock  fast  asleep?" 

"The  'meadoicj"  said   I,  by  way  of  annotation,  "being, 
you  know,  of  grass  reserved  for  meadowing,  or  mowing." 


71 


EUPHRANOR,  281 

'  Gays/ —  as  they  call  them  in  Suffolk  —  and  recited,  if 
not  entoned,  according  to  the  different  Characters." 

"  Plato's  '  Music  of  Education,'  I  suppose,"  said 
Euphranor. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  warming  with  my  subject;  "and  then, 
beside  the  True  Histories  of  Dog  and  Horse  whose 
example  is  to  be  followed,  Fables  that  treat  of  others, 
Lions,  Eagles,  Asses,  Foxes,  Cocks,  and  other  feather'd 
or  four-footed  Creatures,  who,  as  in  Cock  Robin's  case, 
talk  as  well  as  act,  but  with  a  Moral  —  more  or  less 
commendable — provided  the  Moral  be  dropt.  Then  as 
your  punning  friend  Plato,  you  told  me,  says  that 
Thaumas  —  Wonder — is  Father  of  Iris,  who  directly 
communicates  between  Heaven  and  Earth  —  as  in  the 
case  of  that  Bedpost-kissing  Apollo  —  you,  being  a 
pious  man,  doubtless  had  your  Giants,  Genii,  Enchant- 
ers, Fairies,  Ogres,  Witches,  Ghosts " 

But  Euphranor  was  decidedly  against  admitting  any 
Ghost  into  the  Nursery,  and  even  Witches,  remember- 
ing little  Lamb's  childish  terror  at  Her  of  Eudor. 

"  Oh,  but,"  said  I,  "She  was  a  real  Witch,  you  know, 
though  represented  by  Stackhouse ;  who  need  not  figure 
among  the  Musicians,  to  be  sure.  You,  however,  as 
Lycion  says,  have  your  Giants  and  Dragons  to  play 
with  —  by  way  of  Symbol,  if  you  please  —  and  you 
must  not  grudge  your  younger  Brethren  in  Arms  that 
redoubtable  JACK  who  slew  the  Giants  whom  you  are  to 
slay  over  again,  and  who,  for  that  very  purpose,  climb'd 
up  a  Bean-stalk  some  way  at  least  to  Heaven  —  an 


282  EUPHRANOR, 

Allegory  that,  as  Sir  Thomas  Browne  says,  '  admits 
of  a  wide  solution.'  " 

"  Ah,"  said  my  companion,  "  I  remember  how  you 
used  to  climb  up  the  Poplar  in  our  garden  by  way  of 
Beau-stalk,  looking  out  upon  us  now  and  then,  till  lost 
among  the  branches.  You  could  not  do  that  now, 
Doctor." 

"  No  more  than  I  could  up  Jack's  own  Bean-stalk.  I 
was  a  thin  slip  of  a  Knight  then,  not  long  turned  of 
Twenty,  I  suppose  —  almost  more  like  a  Giant  than  a 
Jack  to  the  rest  of  you — but  children  do  not  mind  such 
disproportions.  No  —  I  could  better  play  one  of  the 
three  Bears  growling  for  his  mess  of  porridge  now. 
But,  in  default  of  my  transcendental  illustration  of 
Jack,  he  and  his  like  are  well  represented  in  such 
Effigies  as  your  friend  Plato  never  dream'd  of  in  his 
philosophy,  though  Phidias  and  Praxiteles  may  have 
sketcht  for  their  Children  what  now  is  multiplied  by 
Engraving  into  every  Nursery." 

"  Not  to  mention  Printing,  to  read  about  what  is 
represented,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  say  about  that"  said  I. 
''  Does  not  your  Philosopher  repudiate  any  but  Oral 
instruction  ? " 

"  Notwithstanding  all  which,  I  am  afraid  we  must  learn 
to  read,1'  said  Euphranor,  "  in  these  degenerate  days." 

"  Well,  if  needs  must,"  said  I,  "  you  may  learn  in  the 
most  musical  way  of  all.  Do  you  not  remember  the 
practice  of  our  Forefathers  ? 


EUPHRANOR,  283 

'  To  Master  John,  the  Chamber-maid 
A  Horn -book  gives  of  Ginger-bread ; 
And,  that  the  Child  may  learn  the  better, 
As  he  can  name,  he  eats  the  Letter.' " 

"  Oh,  how  I  used  to  wish,"  said  Euphranor,  "  there 
had  been  any  such  royal  road  to  Grammar  which  one 
had  to  stumble  over  some  years  after." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  but  there  is  now,  I  believe,  a  Comic 
Grammar  —  as  well  as  a  Comic  History  of  Rome  —  and 
of  England." 

"  Say  no  more  of  all  that,  pray,  Doctor.  The  old 
1  Propria  quae  maribus ?  was  better  Music,  uncouth  as  it 
was,  and  almost  as  puzzling  as  an  Oracle.  I  am  sure  it 
is  only  now  —  when  I  try  —  that  I  understand  the 
meaning  of  the  rule  I  then  repeated  mechanically  —  like 
a  Parrot,  you  would  say." 

"  Sufficiently  intelligible,  however,"  said  I,  "  to  be 
mechanically  applied  in  distinguishing  the  different 
parts  of  Speech,  and  how  related  to  one  another ;  how 
a  verb  governs  an  accusative,  and  an  adjective  agrees 
with  a  noun ;  to  all  which  you  are  guided  by  certain 
terminations  of  us,  a,  urn,  and  do,  das,  dat,  and  so  on ; 
till  you  are  able  to  put  the  scattered  words  together, 
aud  so  ford  through  a  sentence.  And  the  old  uncouth 
Music,  as  you  call  it,  nevertheless  served  to  fix  those 
rules  in  the  memory." 

"But  all  that  is  changed  now!"  said  Euphranor ; 
"Nominative  and  Accusative  are  turned  into  Subjec- 
tive, Objective,  and  what  not." 


284  EUPHRANOR, 

'•'Darkening the  unintelligible  to  Boys/'  said  I,  "what- 
ever it  may  afterwards  to  men.  '  Floreat  Etona ! '  say  I, 
with  her  old  Lily,  and  '  Propria  quae  maribus,'  always 
providing  there  be  not  too  much  of  it  —  even  could 
it  be  construed,  like  the  Alphabet,  into  Ginger-bread." 

"Well,"  said  Euphranor,  "I  think  you  took  pretty 
good  care  that  we  should  not  suffer  an  indigestion  of  the 
latter,  when  you  were  among  us  at  home,  Doctor.  What 
with  mounting  that  Bean-stalk  yourself,  and  clearing 
us  out  of  the  Schoolroom  into  the  Garden,  wet  or  dry,  re- 
gardless of  Aunt's  screaming  from  the  window  for  us  to 
come  in,  when  a  Cloud  was  coming  up  in  the  Sky " 

"  Or  a  little  dew  lying  on  the  Grass." 

"  Why,  I  believe  you  would  have  a  Child's  shoes  made 
with  holes  in  them  on  purpose  to  let  in  water,  as  Locke 
recommends,"  said  Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  I  wouldn't  keep  him  within  for  having  none,  whole 
shoes,  or  whole  clothes  —  no,  nor  any  —  only  the  Police 
would  interfere." 

"  But  the  Child  catches  cold." 

"  Put  him  to  bed  and  dose  him." 

"  But  he  dies." 

"  Then,  as  a  sensible  woman  said,  '  is  provided  for.' 
Your  own  Plato,  I  think,  says  it  is  better  the  weakly 
ones  should  die  at  once ;  and  the  Spartans,  I  think, 
kill'd  them  off." 

"  Come,  come.  Doctor,"  said  Euphranor.  "  I  really 
think  you  gave  us  colds  on  purpose  to  be  called  in  to 
cure  them." 


EUPHRANOR,  285 

"  No,  no ;  that  was  before  I  was  a  Doctor,  you  know. 
But  I  doubt  that  I  was  the  Lord  of  Mis-rule  sometimes, 
though,  by  the  way,  I  am  certain  that  I  sometimes 
recommended  a  remedy,  not  when  you  were  sick,  but 
when  you  were  sorry  —  without  a  cause  —  I  mean, 
obstinate,  or  self-willed  against  the  little  Discipline  you 
had  to  submit  to." 

Euphranor  looked  comically  at  me. 

"  Yes,7'  said  I,  "you  know  —  a  slap  on  that  part  where 
the  Rod  is  to  be  applied  in  after  years  —  and  which  I 
had,  not  long  before,  suffered  myself." 

"  Tliat  is  almost  out  of  date  now,  along  with  other  Spar- 
tan severities  even  in  Criminal  cases,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  Yes,  and  the  more  the  pity  in  both  cases.  How 
much  better  in  the  Child's  than  being  shut  up,  or  addi- 
tionally tasked  —  revenging  a  temporary  wrong  with  a 
lasting  injury.  And,  as  for  your  public  Criminal  —  my 
wonder  is  that  even  modern  squeamishness  does  not  see 
that  a  public  application  of  the  Rod  or  Lash  on  the 
bare  back  in  the  Marketplace  would  be  more  likely  to 
daunt  the  Culprit,  and  all  Beholders,  from  future  Misde- 
meanour than  months  of  imprisonment,  well  boarded, 
lodged,  and  cared  for,  at  the  Country's  cost." 

"  Nevertheless,''  said  Euphranor,  "  I  do  not  remember 
your  Advice  being  taken  in  our  case,  much  as  I,  for  one, 
may  have  deserved  it." 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  your  Father  was  gone,  you  know, 
and  your  Mother  too  tender-hearted  —  indulgent,  I 
might  say." 


^-- 


286  EUPHRANOR. 

"Which,  with  all  your  Spartan  discipline,  I  know 
you  think  the  better  extreme,"  said  Euphranor. 

"Oh,  far  the  better!"  said  I— "letting  the  Truth 
come  to  the  surface  —  the  ugliest  Truth  better  than  the 
fairest  Falsehood  which  Fear  naturally  brings  with  it, 
and  all  the  better  for  determining  outwardly,  as  we 
Doctors  say,  than  repressed  to  rankle  within.  Why, 
even  without  fear  of  spank  or  Rod,  you  remember  how 
your  Wordsworth's  little  Harry  was  taught  the  practice 
of  Lying,  who,  simply  being  teased  with  well-meaning 
questions  as  to  why  he  liked  one  place  better  than 
another,  caught  at  a  Weather-cock  for  a  reason  why. 
Your  mother  was  wiser  than  that.  I  dare  say  she  did 
not  bother  you  about  the  meaning  of  the  Catechism  she 
taught  you,  provided  you  generally  understood  that 
you  were  to  keep  your  hands  from  picking  and  stealing, 
and  your  tongue  from  evil-speaking,  lying,  and  slan- 
dering. She  did  not  insist,  as  Skythrops  would  have 
had  you,  on  your  owning  yourselves  Children  of  the 
Devil." 

"  No,  no !  " 

"  I  should  not  even  wonder  if,  staunch  Church  woman 
as  she  was,  she  did  not  condemn  you  to  go  more  than 
once  of  a  Sunday  to  Church  —  perhaps  not  to  be  shut 
up  for  two  hours'  morning  Service  in  a  Pew,  without 
being  allowed  to  go  to  sleep  there ;  nor  tease  you  about 
Text  and  Sermon  afterward.  For,  if  she  had,  you 
would  not,  I  believe,  have  been  the  determined  Church- 
man von  are." 


EUPHRANOR.  287 

"Ah,  I  remember  so  well/'  said  Euphranor,  "her 
telling  a  stricter  neighbour  of  ours  that,  for  all 
she  saw,  the  Child  generally  grew  up  with  clean  op- 
posite inclinations  and  ways  of  thinking,  from  the 
Parent," 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  that  is  the  way  from  Parent  to  Child, 
and  from  Generation  to  Generation ;  and  so  the  "World 
goes  round.1' 

"  And  we  —  Brothers  and  Sister,  I  mean  "  —  said 
Euphranor,  "now  catch  ourselves  constantly  saying 
how  right  she  was  in  the  few  things  we  ever  thought 
her  mistaken  about  her.  God  bless  her  !  " 

He  took  a  long  pull  at  his  glass,  and  was  silent  some 
little  while  —  she  had  died  a  few  years  ago  —  and  then 
he  said : 

"  However,  even  she  began  in  time  to  find  '  the  Boys 
too  much  for  her/  as  she  said  —  for  which  you,  Doctor, 
as  you  say,  are  partly  accountable ;  besides,  we  should 
have  our  livelihood  to  earn,  unlike  your  born  Heroes  ; 
and  must  begin  to  work  sooner  rather  than  later. 
Our  Friend  Skythrop's  ipse  had  already  warned  her  of 
our  innate,  and  steadily  growing,  Depravity,  and,  when 
I  was  seven  or  eight  years  old,  came  to  propose  taking 
me  under  his  wing,  at  what  he  called  his  '  Seminary 
for  young  Gentlemen.' " 

"  I  see  him,"  said  I,  "coming  up  the  shrubbery  walk 
in  a  white  tie,  and  with  a  face  of  determined  asperity 
—  the  edge  of  the  Axe  now  turned  toward,  the  Criminal. 
Aye,  I  was  gone  away  to  Edinburgh  by  that  time ; 


288  EUPHRANOR. 

indeed  I  think  he  waited  till  I  was  well  out  of  the  way. 
Well,  what  did  he  say ! " 

"Oh,  he  explained  his  scheme,  whatever  it  was " 

"  And  —  oh,  I  can  tell  yau  —  some  eight  or  ten  hours 
a  day  of  Grammar  and  Arithmetic,  Globes,  History, 
and  as  Dickens  says,  '  General  Christianity ' ;  and,  by 
way  of  Recreation,  two  hours'  daily  walk  with  himself 
and  his  sallow  Pupils,  two  and  two  along  the  Highroad, 
improved  with  a  running  commentary  by  Skythrops  — 
with  perhaps  a  little  gymnastic  gallows  in  his  gravel 
Play-ground,  without  room  or  time  for  any  generous 
exercise.  Your  Mother,  I  hope,  gave  him  a  biscuit  and 
a  glass  of  Sherry,  and,  with  all  due  thanks,  let  him  go 
back  the  way  he  came." 

''  His  Plan  does  not  please  you,  Doctor  ? " 
"  And  if  it  did  —  and  it  only  wanted  reversing  —  Jie 
would  not.  No  Boy  with  any  Blood  in  his  veins  can 
profit  from  a  Teacher  trying  to  graft  from  dead  wood 
upon  the  living  sapling.  Even  the  poor  Women's 
'Preparatory  Establishments'  for  'Young  Gentlemen' 
are  better;  however  narrow  their  notions  and' rou- 
tine, they  do  not  at  heart  dislike  a  little  of  the  Devil 
in  the  other  sex,  however  intolerant  of  him  in  their 
own." 

"  Well,  we  were  committed  to  neither,"  said  Euphra- 
nor,  "but  to  a  nice  young  Fellow  who  came  to  be  Curate 
in  the  Parish,  and  who  taught  us  at  home,  little  but 
well  —  among  other  things  —  a  little  Cricket." 
'•  Bravo  ! "  said  I, 


W 


EUPHRANOR.  289 

u  Then  Uncle  James,  you  know,  hearing  that  I  was 
rather  of  a  studious  turn  —  i  serious/  he  called  it  —  took 
it  into  his  head  that  one  of  his  Brother's  family  should 
be  a  Parson,  and  so  undertook  to  pay  my  way  at  West- 
minster, which  he  thought  an  aristocratic  School,  and 
handy  for  him  in  the  City.  In  which,  perhaps,  you  do 
not  disagree  with  him,  Doctor  f  " 

"  No,"  said  I  ;  •'  though  not  bred  up  at  any  of  them 
myself,  I  must  confess  I  love  the  great  ancient,  Royal, 
aye,  and  aristocratic  Foundations  —  Eton  with  her 
'Henry's  holy  Shade'  —  why,  Gray's  verses  were 
enough  to  endear  it  to  me  —  and  under  the  walls  of  his 
Royal  Castle,  all  reflected  in  the  water  of  old  Father 
Thames,  as  he  glides  down  the  valley  ;  and  Winchester 
with  her  William  of  Wykeham  entomb'd  in  the  Cathe- 
dral he  built  beside  his  School  -  " 

"  And  Westminster,  if  you  please,  Doctor,  under  the 
Shadow  of  its  glorious  old  Abbey,  where  Kings  are 
crown'd  and  buried,  and  with  Eton's  own  River  flowing 
beside  it  in  ampler  proportions." 

"  Though  not  so  sweet,"  said  I.  u  However,  except- 
ing that  fouler  water  —  and  fouler  air  —  and  some 
other  less  wholesome  associations  inseparable  from 
such  a  City,  I  am  quite  ready  to  pray  for  your  West- 
minster among  those  other  '  Royal  and  Religious 
Foundations  '  whicli  the  Preacher  invites  us  to  pray  for 
at  St.  Mary's.  But  with  Eton  we  began,  you  know, 
looking  like  Charles  Lamb  and  his  Friend  at  the  fine 
Lads  there  playing;  and  there  I  will  leave  them  to 


290  EUPHRANOB. 

enjoy  it  while  they  may,  '  strangers  yet  to  Pain '  —  and 
Parliament  —  to  sublime  their  Beefsteak  into  Chivalry 
in  that  famous  Cricket-field  of  theirs  by  the  side  of  old 
Father  Thames  murmuring  of  so  many  Generations  of 
chivalric  Ancestors." 

"  We  must  call  down  Lycion  to  return  thanks  for 
that  compliment,"  said  Euphranor ;  "  he  is  an  Eton 
man,  as  were  his  Fathers  before  him,  you  know,  and,  I 
think,  proud,  as  your  Etonians  are,  of  his  School,  in 
spite  of  his  affected  Indifference." 

"  Do  you  know  what  sort  of  a  Lad  he  was  while 
there  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,  always  the  Gentleman." 

"  Perhaps  somewhat  too  much  so  for  a  Boy." 

"No,  no,  I  do  not  mean  that — I  mean  essentially 
honourable,  truthful,  and  not  deficient  in  courage,  I 
believe,  whenever  it  was  called  for ;  but  indolent,  and 
perhaps  fonder  too  of  the  last  new  Novel,  and  the 
Cigar  and  Easy-chair,  to  exert  himself  in  the  way  you 
like." 

"  Preparing  for  the  Club,  Opera,  Opera-glass,  'Dejeu- 
ner dansantj  etcetera,  if  not  for  active  service  in  Parlia- 
ment. Eton  should  provide  for  those  indolent  Children 
of  hers." 

"Well,  she  has  provided  her  field,  and  old  Father 
Thames,  as  you  say,  and  Boys  are  supposed  to  take 
pretty  good  care  of  themselves  in  making  use  of  them." 

"Not  always,  however,  as  we  see  in  Lycion's  case, 
nor  of  others,  who,  if  they  do  not  '  sacrifice  the  Living 


EUPHBANOR.  291 

Man  to  the  Dead  Languages/  dissipate  him  among  the 
Fine  Arts,  Music,  Poetry,  Painting,  and  the  like,  in  the 
interval.  Why,  did  not  those  very  Greeks  of  whom 
you  make  so  much  —  and,  as  I  believe,  your  modern 
Germans  —  make  Gymnastic  a  necessary  part  of  their 
education  ? " 

"  But  you  would  not  have  Eton  Boys  compelled  to 
climb  and  tumble  like  monkeys  over  gymnastic  poles  and 
gallows  as  we  saw  with  Skythrops"  Young  Gentlemen'!" 

"  Perhaps  not;  but  what  do  you  say  now  to  some 
good  Military  Drill,  with  March,  Counter-march,  En- 
counter, Bivouac  '  Wacht  am  Rhein' — Encampment — 
that  is,  by  Father  Thames  —  and  such-like  Exercises 
for  which  Eton  has  ample  room,  and  which  no  less  a 
Man — although  a  Poet  — than  John  Milton  enjoin'd  as 
the  proper  preparation  for  War,  and,  I  say,  carrying 
along  with  them  a  sense  of  Order,  Self-restraint,  and 
Mutual  Dependence,  no  less  necessary  in  all  the  rela- 
tions of  Peace  f " 

''  We  might  all  of  us  have  been  the  better  for  that, 
I  suppose,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  And  only  think,"  said  I,  "  if  —  as  in  some  German 
School  —  Fellenberg's,  I  think  —  there  were,  beside  the 
Playground,  a  piece  of  Arable  to  work  in  —  perhaps  at 
a  daily  wage  of  provender  according  to  the  work  done 
—  what  illumination  might  some  young  Lycioii  receive, 
as  to  the  condition  of  the  Poor,  '  unquenchable  by  logic 
and  statistics,'  says  Carlyle,  '  when  he  comes,  as  Duke 
of  Logwood,  to  legislate  in  Parliament.' " 


292  EUPHRANOR. 

"  Better  Log  than  Brute,  however,"  answer'd  Euphra- 
nor.  "You  must  beware,  Doctor,  lest  with  all  your 
Ploughing  and  other  Beef-compelling  Accomplishments 
you  do  not  sink  the  Man  in  the  Animal,  as  was  much 
the  case  with  our  '  Hereditary  Eulers '  of  some  hundred 
years  ago.'' 

"  '  MvjSsv  oqav,'  "  said  I;  "let  us  but  lay  in  —  when 
only  laid  in  it  can  be  —  such  a  store  of  that  same  well- 
concocted  stuff  as  shall  last  us  all  Life's  journey 
through,  with  all  its  ups  and  downs.  Nothing,  say  the 
Hunters,  that  Blood  and  Bone  won't  get  over." 

"  Be  there  a  good  Eider  to  guide  him  !  "  said  Euphra- 
nor  ;  "  and  that,  in  Man's  case,  I  take  it  is  —  if  not  yet 
the  Reason  we  talked  of  —  a  Moral  such  as  no  Beast 
that  breathes  is  conscious  of.  You  talk  of  this  Animal 
virtue,  and  that  —  why,  for  instance,  is  there  not  a 
moral,  as  distinguisht  from  an  animal  Courage,  to  face, 
not  only  the  sudden  danger  of  the  field,  but  something 
far-off  coming,  far  foreseen,  and  far  more  terrible  — 
Crammer's,  for  instance " 

"  Which,"  said  I,  "  had  all  but  failed  —  all  the  more 
honour  for  triumphing  at  last !  But  Hugh  Latimer, 
who  I  think,  had  wrought  along  with  his  Father's  hinds 
in  Leicestershire.  Anyhow,  there  is  no  harm  in  having 
two  strings  to  your  Bow,  whichever  of  them  be  the 
strongest.  The  immortal  Soul  obliged,  as  she  is,  to  take 
the  Field  of  Mortality,  would  not  be  the  worse  for  being 
mounted  on  a  good  Animal,  though  I  must  not  say 
with  the  Hunters,  till  the  Rider  seems  'part  of  his 


iv 

EUPHRANOB.  293 

horse.'  As  to  your  Reason  —  he  is  apt  to  crane  a  little 
too  much  over  the  hedge,  as  they  say,  till  by  too  long 
considering  the  'Hoiv,-  he  comes  to  question  the  'Why' 
andj  the  longer  looking,  the  less  liking,  shirks  it 
altogether  j  or  by  his  Indecision  brings  Horse  and  Rider 
into  the  Ditch*  Hamlet  lets  us  into  the  secret  —  luckily 
for  us  enacting  the  very  moral  he  descants  on  —  when 
he  reflects  on  his  own  imbecility  of  action  t 

'  Whether  it  be 

Bestial  oblivion,  or  some  coward  scruple 
Of  thinking  too  precisely  of  the  Event, 
A  thought  which,  quarter'd,  hath  but  one  part  Wisdom, 
And  ever  three  parts  Coward  —  I  do  not  know 
Why  yet  I  live  to  say,  "  This  thing's  to  do" 
Sith  I  have  Cause,  and  Will,  and  Strength,  and  Means, 
To  do't.' 

Not  in  his  case  surely  'oblivion,'  with  such  reminders, 
supernatural  and  other,  as  he  had :  nor  as  in  our  case, 
with  th.e  Ditch  before  our  Eyes  :  nor  want  of  Courage 
which  was  his  Royal  inheritance ;  but  the  Will,  which 
he  reckon'd  on  as  surely  as  on  Strength  and  Means  — 
was  he  so  sure  of  that  ?  He  had  previously  told  us  how 
'  The  native  hue  of  Resolution  '  —  how  like  that  glow 
upon  the  cheek  of  healthy  Youth  !  — 

'  The  native  hue  of  Resolution, 
Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  Thought. 
And  Enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment 
With  this  regard,  their  currents  turn  aside, 
And  lose  the  name  of  Action.' 


294  EUPHRANOR. 

He  had,  he  tells  his  College  Friends,  forgone  his  '  Cus- 
tom of  Exercises '  among  others,  perhaps,  his  Cricket,  at 
Wittenberg  too  soon,  and  taken  to  reasoning  about  'To 
-  be,  or  not  to  be '  —  otherwise  he  would  surely  have 
bowl'd  his  wicked  uncle  down  at  once." 

"  Though  not  without  calling  '  Play  ! '  I  hope,"  said 
Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  At  any  rate,  not  while  his  Adversary's  back  was 
turned,  and  so  far  prepared  inasmuch  as  he  was 
engaged  in  repentant  Prayer.  And  that  is  the  reason 
Hamlet  gives  for  not  then  despatching  him,  lest,  being 
so  employed,  he  should  escape  the  future  punishment  of 
his  crime.  An  odd  motive  for  the  youthful  Moral  to 
have  reasoned  itself  into." 

"  His  Father  had  been  cut  off  unprepared,  and  per- 
haps, according  to  the  Moral  of  those  days,  could  only 
be  avenged  by  such  a  plenary  Expiation." 

"Perhaps;  or,  perhaps — and  Shakespeare  himself  may 
not  have  known  exactly  why  —  Hamlet  only  made  it  an 
excuse  for  delaying  what  he  had  to  do,  as  delay  he 
does,  till  vengeance  seems  beyond  his  reach  when  he 
suffers  himself  to  be  sent  out  of  the  country.  For  you 
know  the  Habit  of  Resolving  without  Doing,  as  in  the 
Closet,  gradually  snaps  the  connexion  between  them, 
and  the  case  becomes  chronically  hopeless." 

Euphranor  said  that  I  had  stolen  that  fine  Moral  of 
mine  from  a  Volume  of  '•Newman's  Sermons"  which 
he  had  lent  me,  as  I  agreed  with  him  was  probably  the 
case  ;  and  then  he  said  : 


EUPHRANOR.  295 

"  Well,  Bowling  down  a  King  is,  I  suppose,  a  ticklish 
Business,  and  the  Bowler  may  miss  his  aim  by  being 
too  long  about  taking  it:  but,  in  Cricket  proper,  I  have 
most  wonder'd  at  the  Batter  who  has  to  decide  whether 
to  block,  strike,  or  tip,  in  that  twinkling  of  an  eye 
be'tween  the  ball's  delivery,  and  its  arrival  at  his 
wicket." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  the  Boxer  who  puts  in  a  blow 
with  one  hand  at  the  same  moment  of  warding  one  off 
with  the  other." 

"  '  Gladiatorem  in  arena/  "  said  Euphranor. 

"  Yes  ;  what  is  called  'Presence  of  mind,'  where  there 
is  no  time  to  'make  it  up.'  And  all  the  more  necessary 
and  remarkable  in  proportion  to  the  Danger  involved. 
As  when  the  Hunter's  horse  falling  with  him  in  full 
cry,  he  braces  himself,  between  saddle  and  ground,  to 
pitch  clear  of  his  horse  —  as  Fielding  tells  us  that  brave 
old  Parson  Adams  did,  when  probably  thinking  less 
of  his  horse  than  of  those  Sermons  he  carried  in  his 
saddle-bags." 

"Ah!"  said  Euphranor,  "Parson  Adams  was  so  far 
a  lucky  man  to  have  a  Horse  at  all,  which  wre  poor  fel- 
lows now  can  hardly  afford.  I  remember  how  I  used 
to  envy  those  who —  for  the  fun,  if  for  nothing  else  — 
followed  brave  old  Sedgwick  across  country,  thorough 
brier,  thorough  mire.  Ah !  that  was  a-Lecture  after  your 
own  heart,  Doctor;  something  more  than  peripatetic, 
and  from  one  with  plenty  of  the  Boy  in  him  when  over 
Seventy,  I  believe." 


296  EUPHBANOR. 

"  Well,  there  again/'  said  I,  "  your  great  Schools 
might  condescend  to  take  another  hint  from  •  abroad 
where  some  one  —  Fellenberg  again,  I  think  —  had  a 
Riding-house  in  his  much  poorer  School,  where  you 
might  learn  not  only  to  sit  your  horse  if  ever  able  to 
provide  one  for  yourself,  but  also  to  saddle,  bridle,  rub 
him  down,  with  the  'sjss-s'ss'  which  I  fancy  was  heard 
on  the  morning  of  Agin  court — if,  by  the  way,  one 
horse  was  left  in  all  the  host." 

"  Well,  come,"  said  Euphranor,  "the  Gladiator,  at  any 
rate,  is  gone  —  and  the  Boxer  after  him  —  and  the 
Hunter,  I  think,  going  after  both,  perhaps  the  very 
Horse  he  rides  gradually  to  be  put  away  by  Steam  into 
some  Museum  among  the  extinct  Species  that  Man  has 
no  longer  room  or  business  for." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  I,  "  War  is  not  gone  with  the 
Gladiator,  and  cannon  and  rifle  yet  leave  room  for  hand- 
to-hand  conflict,  as  may  one  day — which  God  forbid  !  — 
come  to  proof  in  our  own  sea-girt  Island.  If  safe  from 
abroad,  some  Ruffian  may  still  assault  you  in  some 
shady  lane  —  nay,  in  your  own  parlour  —  at  home,  when 
you  have  nothing  but  your  own  strong  arm  and  ready 
soul  to  direct  it.  Accidents  will  happen  in  the  best- 
regulated  families.  The  House  will  take  fire,  the  Coach 
will  break  down,  the  Boat  will  upset;  is  there  no 
gentleman  who  can  swim,  to  save  himself  and  others ; 
no  one  do  more  to  save  the  Maid  snoring  in  the  garret, 
than  helplessly  looking  on  —  or  turning  away?  Some 
one  is  taken  ill  at  midnight ;  John  is  drunk  in  bed ;  Is 


EUPHBANOR.  297 

there  no  Gentleman  can  saddle  Dobbin  —  in uch  less 
get  a  Collar  over  his  Head,  or  the  Crupper  over  his 
tail,  without  such  awkwardness  as  brings  on  his 
abdomen  the  kick  he  fears,  and  spoils  him  for  the  jour- 
ney ?  And  I  do  maintain,"  I  continued,  having  now 
gotten  '  the  bit  between  my  teeth '  —  "  maintain  against 
all  Comers  that,  independent  of  any  bodily  action  on 
their  part,  these,  and  the  like  Accomplishments,  as  you 
call  them,  do  carry  with  them,  and,  I  will  say,  with  the 
Soul  incorporate,  that  habitual  Instinct  of  Courage, 
Resolution,  and  Decision,  which,  together  with  the  Good 
Humour  which  good  animal  Condition  goes  so  far  to 
ensure,  do,  I  say,  prepare  and  arm  the  Man  not  only 
against  the  greater,  but  against  those  minor  Trials  of 
Life  which  are  so  far  harder  to  encounter  because  of 
perpetually  cropping  up ;  and  thus  do  cause  him  to 
radiate,  if  through  a  narrow  circle,  yet,  through  that, 
imperceptibly  to  the  whole  world, .  a  happier  atmos- 
phere about  him  than  could  be  inspired  by  Closet-loads 
of  Poetry,  Metaphysic,  and  Divinity.  Xo  doubt  there 
is  danger,  as  you  say,  of  the  Animal  overpowering  the 
Rational,  as,  I  maintain,  equally  so  of  the  reverse ;  no 
doubt  the  high-mettled  Colt  will  be  likeliest  to  run  riot, 
as  may  my  Lad,  inflamed  with  Aristotle's  '  Wine  of 
Youth,'  into  excesses  which  even  the  virtuous  Berkeley 
says  are  the  more  curable  as  lying  in  the  Passions ; 
whereas,  says  he,  '  the  dry  Rogue  who  sets  up  for  Judg- 
ment is  incorrigible.'  But,  whatever  be  the  result,  VIG- 
OUR, of  Body,  as  of  Spirit,  one  must  have,  subject  like 


298  EUPHRANOR. 

all  good  things  to  the  worst  conception  —  Strength 
itself  j  even  of  Evil,  being  a  kind  of  Virtus  which  Time, 
if  not  good  Counsel)  is  pretty  sure  to  moderate  ;  whereas 
Weakness  is  the  one  radical  and  Incurable  Evil,  increas- 
ing with  every  year  of  Life. — Which  fine  Moral,  or  to 
that  effect,  you  will  also  find  somewhere  in  those  Ser- 
mons, whose  Authority  I  know  you  cannot  doubt." 

"  And  thus,"  said  Euphranor,  "  after  this  long  tirade, 
you  turn  out  the  young  Knight  from  Cricket  on  the 
World." 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  "  did  I  not  tell  you  from  the  first  I 
would  not  meddle  with  your  Digby  any  more  than  your 
Wordsworth.  I  have  only  been  talking  of  ordinary 
mankind  so  as  to  provide  for  Locke's  '  totus  teres^  and — 
except  in  the  matter  of  waistband — lrotundus'  man, 
sufficiently  accoutred  for  the  campaign  of  ordinary  Life. 
And  yet,  on  second  thought,  I  do  not  see  why  he  should 
not  do  very  fairly  well  for  one  of  the  '  Table-round/  if 
King  Arthur  himself  is  to  be  looked  for,  and  found,  as 
the  Poet  says,  in  the  '  Modern  Gentleman,'  whose  '  state- 
liest port'  will  not  be  due  to  the  Reading-desk,  or  Easy- 
chair.  At  any  rate,  he  will  be  sufficiently  qualified,  not 
only  to  shoot  the  Pheasant  and  hunt  the  Fox,  but  even 
to  sit  on  the  Bench  of  Magistrates  —  or  even  of  Parlia- 
ment —  not  unprovided  with  a  quotation  or  two  from 
Horace  or  Virgil." 

Euphranor  could  not  deny  that,  laughing. 

"  Or  if  obliged,  poor  fellow  —  Younger  son,  per- 
haps —  to  do  something  to  earn  him  Bread  —  or 


EUPHRANOR.  299 

Claret  —  for  his  Old  Age,  if  not  prematurely  knocked 
on  the  head  —  whether  not  well-qualified  for  Soldier  or 
Sailor  ?  '1 

"  Nor  that." 

"  As  for  the  Church,  (which  is  your  other  Gentle- 
manly Profession,)  you  know  your  Bishop  can  con- 
secrate Tom  or  Blifil  equally  by  that  Imposition " 

"  Doctor,  Doctor,"  broke  in  Euphranor,  "you  have 
been  talking  very  well ;  don't  spoil  it  by  one  of  your 
grimaces." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I, —  "  Oh,  but  there  is  still  THE 
LAW,  in  which  I  would  rather  trust  myself  with  Tom 
than  Blifil,"  added  I.  "Well,  what  else!  Surgery? 
which  is  said  to  need  '  the  Lion's  Heart.' " 

"  But  also  the  Lady's  Hand,"  replied  he,  smiling. 

"  Not  in  drawing  one  of  the  Molars,  I  assure  you. 
However,  thus  far  I  do  not  seem  to  have  indisposed  him 
for  the  Professions  which  his  Bank  usually  opens  to 
him ;  or  perhaps  even,  if  he  had  what  you  call  a  Genius 
in  any  direction,  might,  amid  all  his  Beef -compelling 
Exercises,  light  upon  something,  as  Pan  a-hunting,  and, 
as  it  were  '  unaware,'  says  Bacon,  disco ver'd  that  Ceres 
whom  the  more  seriously-searching  Gods  had  looked  for 
in  vain." 

"  Not  for  the  sake  of  Rent,  I  hope,"  said  Euphranor, 
laughing. 

"Or  even  a  turn  for  looking  into  Digby  and  Aristotle, 
as  into  a  Mirror  —  could  he  but  distinguish  his  own 
face  in  it." 


300  EUPHRANOR, 

Euphranor,  upon  whose  face  no  sign  of  any  such  self- 
consciousness  appeared,  sat  for  a  little  while  silent,  and 
then  said : 

"  Do  you  remember  that  fine  passage  in  Aristophanes' 
Clouds  —  lying  libel  as  it  is  —  between  the  Aixato?  and 
yA8ixo?  Ao-foc?" 

I  had  forgotten,  I  said,  my  little  Latin  and  less 
Greek ;  and  he  declared  I  must  however  read  this  scene 
over  again  with  him.  "  It  is,  you  see,  Old  Athens 
pleading  against  Young ;  whom  after  denouncing,  for 
relinquishing  the  hardy  Discipline  and  simply  severe 
Exercises  that  reared  the  MafvaOwvojta^oo?  avopac,  for 
the  Warm  Bath,  the  Dance,  and  the  Law  Court;  he 
suddenly  turns  to  the  Young  Man  who  stands  hesitat- 
ing between  them,  and  in  those  Verses,  musical  — 

'AX//  cov  Xt-apoc  73  v.ai  =oavOvj?  —  " 

* 

"  Come,  my  good  fellow,"  said  I,  "  you  must  inter- 
pret." And  Euphranor,  looking  down,  in  undertone 
repeated : 

"0   listen   to   me,  and    so  shall  you  be  stout-hearted  and 

fresh  as  a  Daisy ; 
Not   ready  to    chatter    on    every  matter,   nor   bent    over 

books  till  you're  hazy : 
No  splitter  of  straws,  no  dab  at  the  Laws,  making  black 

seem  white  so  cunning1 : 
But  scamp'ring  down  out  o'  the  town,  and  over  the  green 

Meadow  running. 
Race,  wrestle,  and  play  with  your  fellows  so  gay,  like  so 

many  Birds  of  a  feather, 


EUPHRANOR.  301 

All  breathing  of  Youth,  Good-humour,  and  Truth,  in  the 
time  of  the  jolly  Spring  weather, 

In  the  jolly  Spring-time,  when  the  Poplar  and  Lime  di- 
shevel their  tresses  together." 

"Well,  but  go  on,"  said  I,  when  he  stopp'd,  "I 
am  sure  there  is  something  more  of  it,  now  you 
recall  the  passage  to  me  —  about  broad  shoulders 
and " 

But  this  was  all  he  had  cared  to  remember. 

I  then  asked  him  who  was  the  translator ;  to  which 
he  replied  with  a  shy  smile,  'twas  more  a  paraphrase 
than  a  translation,  and  I  might  criticise  it  as  I  liked. 
To  which  I  had  not  much  to  object,  I  said  —  perhaps 
the  trees  "dishevelling  their  tresses  "  a  little  Cockney  ; 
which  he  agreed  it  was.  And  then,  turning  off, 
observed  how  the  degradation  which  Aristophanes 
satirised  in  the  Athenian  youth  went  on  and  on,  so 
that,  when  Rome  came  to  help  Greece  against  Philip  of 
Macedon,  the  Athenians,  says  Livy,  could  contribute 
little  to  the  common  cause  but  declamation  and 
despatches  — i  quibus  solum  valent.' 

"  Aye,"  said  I,  "  and  to  think  that  when  Livy  was  so 
writing  of  Athens,  his  own  Rome  was  just  beginning 
to  go  downhill  in  the  same  way  and  for  the  same 

causes : 

'  Nescit  equo  rudis 
Hserere  ingenuus  puer, 
Venarique  timet,  ludere  doctior 
Grseco  seu  jubeas  trocho, 
Seu  mails  vetita  legibus  alea : ' 


302  EUPHRANOR. 

unlike  those  early  times,  when  Heroic  Father  begot 
and  bred  Heroic  Son;  Generation  followed  Generation, 
crown'd  with  Laurel  and  with  Oak  ;  under  a  system  of 
Education,  the  same  Livy  says,  handed  down,  as  it  were 
an  Art,  from  the  very  foundation  of  Kome,  and  filling  her 
Parliament  with  Generals,  each  equal,  he  rhetorically 
declares,  to  Alexander. —  But  come,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  I,  jumping  up,  "here  have  I  been  holding  forth 
like  a  little  Socrates,  while  the  day  is  passing  over  our 
heads.  We  have  forgotten  poor  Lexilogus,  who  (I  should 
not  wonder)  may  have  stolen  away,  like  your  fox,  to 
Cambridge." 

Euphranor,  who  seemed  to  linger  yet  awhile,  never- 
theless followed  my  example.  On  looking  at  my  watch 
I  saw  we  could  not  take  anything  like  the  walk  we  had 
proposed  and  yet  be  at  home  by  their  College  dinner;  * 
so  as  it  was  I  who  had  wasted  the  day,  I  would  stand 
the  expense,  I  said,  of  dinner  at  the  Inn:  after  which 
we  could  all  return  at  our  ease  to  Cambridge  in  the 
Evening.  As  we  were  leaving  the  Bowling-green, 
I  called  up  to  Lycion,  who  thereupon  appeared  at 
the  Billiard-room  window  with  his  coat  off,  and  asked 
him  if  he  had  nearly  finish'd  his  Game  ?  By  way  of 
answer,  he  asked  us  if  we  had  done  with  our  Ogres 
and  Giants'?  whom,  on  the  contrary,  I  said,  we  were 
now  running  away  from  that  we  might  live  to  fight 
another  day  —  would  he  come  with  us  into  the  fields 
for  a  walk  ?  or,  if  he  meant  to  go  on  with  his  Bill- 
*  Then  at  :i.:JO  p.  in. 


EUPHRANOR,  303 

iards,  would  he  dine  with  us  on  our  return?  "Not 
walk  with  us/'  he  said;  and  when  I  spoke  of  dinner 
again,  seemed  rather  to  hesitate;  but  at  last  said, 
"Very  well;"  and,  nodding  to  us,  retired  with  his  cue 
into  the  room. 

Then  Euphranor  and  I,  leaving  the  necessary  orders 
within,  returned  a  little  way  to  look  for  Lexilogus,  whom 
we  soon  saw,  like  a  man  of  honour  as  he  was,  coming 
on  his  way  to  meet  us.  In  less  than  a  minute  we  had 
met ;  and  he  apologised  for  having  been  delay'd  by  one 
of  Aunt  Martha's  asthma-fits,  during  which  he  had  not 
liked  to  leave  her. 

After  a  brief  condolence,  we  all  three  turn'd  back ; 
and  I  told  him  how,  after  all,  Euphranor  and  I  had 
play'd  no  Billiards,  but  had  been  arguing  all  the  time 
about  Digby  and  his  books. 

Lexilogus  smiled,  but  made  no  remark,  being  natu- 
rally little  given  to  Speech.  But  the  day  was  delightful, 
and  we  walk'd  briskly  along  the  road,  conversing  on 
many  topics,  till  a  little  further  on  we  got  into  the 
fields.  These — for  it  had  been  a  warm  May — were  now 
almost  in  their  Prime,  (and  that  of  the  Year,  Crabbe 
used  to  say,  fell  with  the  mowing,)  crop-thick  with 
Daisy,  Clover,  and  Buttercup ;  and,  as  we  went  along, 
Euphranor,  whose  thoughts  still  ran  on  what  we  had 
been  talking  about,  quoted  from  Chaucer  whom  we  had 
lately  been  looking  at  together : 

"  Embroidered  was  lie  as  it  were  a  Mede, 
All  full  of  fresh  Flowris,  both  white  and  rede," 


304  EUPHRAXOR. 

and  added,  "  What  a  picture  was  that,  by  the  way,  of  a 
young  Knight ! " 

I  had  half-forgotten  the  passage,  and  Lexilogus  had 
never  read  Chaucer :  so  I  begg'd  Euphranor  to  repeat 
it  ;  which  he  did,  with  an  occasional  pause  in  his 
Memory,  and  jog  from  mine. 

'With  him  there  was  his  Sonn,  a  yonge  Squire, 
A  Lover,  and  a  lusty  Bachelire, 
With  Lockis  crull,  as  they  were  leid  in  press  ; 
Of  Twenty  yere  of  age  he  was,  I  ghesse  ; 
Of  his  Stature  he  was  of  evin  length, 
Wonderly  deliver,  and  of  grete  Strength ; 
And  he  had  ben  somtime  in  Chevauchie, 
In  Flandris,  in  Artois,  and  Picardie, 
And  born  him  wel,  as  of  so  litil  space, 
In  hope  to  standin  in  his  Lady's  grace. 
Embroidered  was  he  as  it  were  a  Mede, 
All  full  of  fresh  Flowris,  both  white  and  rede  ; 
.    Singing  he  was  or  floyting  all  the  day ; 
He  was  as  fresh  as  is  the  month  of  May : 
Short  was  his  Goun  with  slevis  long  and  wide, 
Well  couth  he  set  on  Hors,  and  fair  yride ; 
And  Songis  he  couth  make,  and  well  endyte, 
Just,  and  eke  daunce,  and  well  portraye  and  write. 
So  hote  he  lovid  that  by  nighter  tale 
He  slept  no  more  than  doth  the  Nightingale. 
Curteys  he  was,  lowly,  and  servisable, 
And  karf  before  his  Fadir  at  the  table.' 

"  Chaucer,  however,"  said  Euphranor,  when  he  had 
finished  the  passage,  "  credited  his  young  Squire  with 
other  Accomplishments  than  you  would  trust  him  with, 
Doctor.  See,  he  dances,  draws,  and  even  indites  songs 
—  somewhat  of  a  Dilettante,  after  all." 


EUPHRANOR,  305 

"But  also/'  I  added,  "is  of  'grete  Strength,'  'fair 
yrides/  having  already  '  born  him  wel  in  Chevauchie.' 
Besides/'  continued  I,  (who  had  not  yet  subsided,  I 
suppose,  from  the  long  swell  of  my  former  sententious- 
ness,)  "in  those  days,  you  know,  there  was  scarce  any 
Reading,  which  now,  for  better  or  worse,  occupies  so 
much  of  our  time ;  Men  left  that  to  Clerk  and  School- 
man ;  contented,  as  we  before  agreed,  to  follow  their 
bidding  to  Pilgrimage  and  Holy  war.  Some  of  those 
gentler  Accomplishments  would  then  have  been  needed 
to  soften  manners,  just  as  rougher  ones  to  strengthen 
ours.  And,  long  after  that,  Sir  Philip  Sidney  might 
well  indulge  in  a  little  Sonneteering,  amid  all  those 
public  services  which  ended  at  Zutphen ;  as  later  on,  in 
the  Stuart  days,  Lord  Dorset  troll  off — 'To  all  you 
Ladles  now  on  Land,'  from  the  Fleet  that  was  just  going 
into  Action  off  the  coast  of  Holland." 

"'Even  Master  Samuel  Pepys,"  said  Euphranor,  laugh- 
ing, might  sit  with  a  good  grace  down  to  practise  his 
'Beauty  retire,'  after  riding  to  Huntingdon  and  back,  as 
might  Parson  Adams  have  done  many  years  after." 

"  They  were  both  prefigured  among  those  Canterbury 
Pilgrims  so  many  years  before,"  said  I.  "  Only  think 
of  it !  Some  nine-and-twenty,  I  think,  '  by  aventure 
yfalle  in  feleweship,'  High  and  Low,  Rich  and  Poor, 
Saint  and  Sinner,  Cleric  and  Lay,  Knight,  Ploughman, 
Prioress,  Wife  of  Bath,  Shipman,  hunting  Abbot-like 
Friar,  Poor  Parson  —  (Adams'  Progenitor) — Webster 
(Pepys') — 011  rough-riding  'Stot '  or  ambling  Palfrey, 


306  EUPHRAXOK. 

inarshall'd  by  mine  Host  of  the  Tabard  to  the  music  of 
the  Miller's  Bag-pipes,  on  their  sacred  errand  to  St. 
Thomas7 ;  and  one  among  them  taking  note  of  all  in 
Verse  still  fresh  as  the  air  of  those  Kentish  hills  they 
travelled  over  on  that  April  morning  four  hundred 
years  ago." 

"Lydgate  too,  I  remember,"  said  Euphranor,  "tells 
of  Chaucer's  good-humour'd  encouragement  of  his 
Brother-poets  —  I  cannot  now  recollect  the  lines,"  he 
added,  after  pausing  a  little.* 

"A  famous  Man  of  Business  too,"  said  I,  "employ'd 
by  Princes  at  home  and  abroad.  And  ready  to  fight  as 
to  write ;  having,  he  says,  when  some  City  people  had 
accused  him  of  Untruth,  '  prepared  his  body  for  Mars 
his  doing, "if  any  contraried  his  saws.'" 

"  A  Poet  after  your  own  heart,  Doctor,  sound  in 
wind  and  limb,  Mind  and  Body.  In  general,  however, 
they  are  said  to  be  a  sickly,  irritable,  inactive,  and 
solitary  race.'' 

"  Not  our  'Canterbury  Pilgrim'  for  one/'  said  I;  ''no. 
nor  his  successor.  William  Shakespeare,  who,  after  a 
somewhat  roving  Knighthood  in  the  country,  became 
a  Player,  Play-wright,  and  Play-manager  in  London, 

"  The  verses  Euphranor  could  not  remember  are  these  : 

"  For  Chaucer  that  my  Master  was,  and  knew 
What  did  belong  to  writing  Verse  and  Prose, 

Ne'er  stumbled  at  small  faults,  nor  yet  did  view 
With  scornful  eyes  the  works  and  books  of  those 

That  in  his  time  did  write,  nor  yet  would  taunt 

At  any  man,  to  fear  him  or  to  daunt." 


,/v  />s 

7i  v-  — /?! 


EUPHRAXOR.  307 

where,  after  managing  (as  not  all  managers  do)  to  make 
a  sufficient  fortune,  he  returned  home  again  to  settle 
in  his  native  Stratford  —  whither  by  the  way  he  had 
made  occasional  Pilgrimages  before  —  on  horseback,  of 
course  —  putting  up  —  for  the  night — at  the  Angel  of 
Oxford — about  which  some  stories  are  told " 

''  As  fabulous  as  probably  those  of  his  poaching  in 
earlier  days,"  said  Euphranor. 

"  Well,  however  that  may  be  —  and  I  constantly  be- 
lieve in  the  poaching  part  of  the  Story  —  to  Stratford 
he  finally  retired,  where  he  built  a  house  and  planted 
Mulberries,  and  kept  company  with  John-a-Combe, 
and  the  neighbouring  Knights  and  Squires  —  except 
perhaps  the  Lucys  —  as  merrily  as  with  the  Wits 
of  London ;  all  the  while  supplying  his  own  little 
'  Globe  ' —  and,  from  it,  '  the  Great  globe  itself,'  with 
certain  manuscripts,  in  which  (say  his  Fellow-players 
and  first  Editors)  Head  and  hand  went  so  easily  to- 
gether as  scarce  to  leave  a  blot  on  the  pages  they 
travell' d  over." 

"Somewhat  resembling  Sir  Walter  Scott's,  I  think," 
said  Euphranor,  "  in  that  love  for  Country  home,  and 
Country  neighbour  —  aye.  and  somewhat  also  in  that 
easy  intercourse  between  Head  and  hand  in  composi- 
tion which  those  who  knew  them  tell  of — however 
unequal  in  the  result.  Do  you  remember  Lockhart's 
saying  how  glibly  Sir  Walter's  pen  was  heard  to  canter 
over  the  paper,  before  'Atra  Cura'  saddled  herself 
behind  him  ? " 


308  EUPHRANOR. 

u  Ah,  yes,"  said  I ;  u  '  Magician  of  the  North '  they 
call'd  him  in  my  own  boyish  days ;  and  such  he  is  to  me 
now;  though,  maybe,  not  an  Archi-magus  like  him  of 
Stratford,  to  set  me  down  in  Rome,  Athens,  Egypt,  with 
their  Heroes,  Heroines,  and  Commoners,  moving  and 
talking  as  living  men  and  women  about  me,  howsoever 
'larger  than  human'  through  the  breath  of  Imagination 
in  which  he  has  clothed  them." 

"  Somebody  —  your  Carlyle,  I  believe,"  said  Euphra- 
nor,  "  lays  it  down  that  Sir  Walter's  Characters  are  in 
general  fashioned  from  without  to  within  — the  reverse 
of  Shakespeare's  way  —  and  Nature's." 

''  What,"  said  I,  "  according  to  old  Sartor's  theory, 
beginning  from  the  over-coat  of  temporary  Circum- 
stance, through  the  temporary  Tailor's  '  Just-au-corps,' 
till  arriving  at  such  centre  of  Humanity  as  may  lie 
within  the  bodily  jerkin  we  talk'd  of?" 

"  Something  of  that  sort,  I  suppose,"  said  Euphranor ; 
"  but  an  you  love  me,  Doctor,  no  more  of  that  odious  old 
jerkin,  whether  Sterne's  or  Carlyle's." 

"Well,"  said  I,  uif  the  Sartor's  charge  hold  good,  it 
must  lie  against  the  Heroes  and  Heroines  of  the  later, 
half -historical,  Romances ;  in  which,  nevertheless,  are 
scenes  where  our  Elizabeth,  and  James,  and  Lewis  of 
France  figure,  that  seem  to  me  as  good  in  Character 
and  Circumstance  as  any  in  that  Henry  the  Eighth, 
which  lias  always  till  quite  lately  been  accepted  for 
Shakespeare's.  But  Sartor's  self  will  hardly  maintain 
his  charge  against  the  Deanses,  Dumbiedykes,  Ochil- 


EUPHRANOR.  309 

trees,  Baillies,  and  others  of  the  bona-fide  Scotch  Novels, 
with  the  likes  of  whom  Scott  fell  'in  feleweship'  from  a 
Boy,  riding  about  the  country  —  'born  to  be  a  trooper,' 
he  said  of  himself;  no,  nor  with  the  Bradwardines, 
Both  wells,  Maccombicks,  Macbriars,  and  others,  High- 
lander, Lowlander,  Royalist,  Roundhead,  Churchman 
or  Covenanter,  whom  he  animated  with  the  true  Scot- 
tish blood  which  ran  in  himself  as  well  as  in  those  he 
lived  among,  and  so  peopled  those  stories  which  are  be- 
come Household  History  to  us.  I  declare  that  I  scarce 
know  whether  a  sigTit  of  Macbeth's  blasted  heath  would 
move  me  more  than  did  the  first  sight  of  the  Lammermoor 
Hills  when  I  rounded  the  Scottish  coast  on  first  going 
to  Edinburgh  ;  or  of  that  ancient  '  Heart  of  Mid- 
Lothian  '  when  I  got  there.  But  the  domestic  Tragedy 
naturally  comes  more  nearly  home  to  the  bosom  of 
your  Philistine." 

"  Sir  Walter's  stately  neighbour  across  the  Tweed," 
said  Euphranor,  "  took  no  great  account  of  his  Novels, 
and  none  at  all  of  his  Verse  —  though,  by  the  way,  he 
did  call  him  '  Great  Minstrel  of  the  Border  '  after  re- 
visiting Yarrow  in  his  company  ;  perhaps  he  meant  it 
only  of  the  Minstrelsy  which  Scott  collected,  you  know." 

"  Wordsworth  ?  "  said  I  —  u  a  man  of  the  Milton  rather 
than  of  the  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare  type  —  without 
humour,  like  the  rest  of  his  Brethren  of  the  Lake." 

"Not  but  he  loves  Chaucer,  as  much  as  you  can,  Doc- 
tor, for  those  fresh  touches  of  Nature,  and  tenderness 
of  Heart  —  insomuch  that  he  has  re-cast  the  Jew  of 


1^ 


310  EUPHRANOK. 

Lincoln's  Story  into  a  form  more  available  for  modern 
readers." 

"  And  successfully  ? " 

u Ask  Lexilogus —  Ah!  I  forget  that  he  never  read 
Chaucer;  but  I  know  that  he  loves  Wordsworth  next  to 
his  own  Cowper." 

Lexilogus  believed  that  he  liked  the  Poem  in  question, 
but  he  was  not  so  familiar  with  it  as  with  many  other 
of  Wordsworth's  pieces. 

"Ah,  you  and  I,  Euphranor,"  said  I,  "must  one  day 
teach  Lexilogus  the  original  before  he  is  become  too 
great  a  Don  to  heed  such  matters." 

Lexilogus  smiled,  and  Euphrauor  said  that  before 
that  time  came,  Lexilogus  and  he  would  teach  me  in 
return  to  love  Wordsworth  more  than  I  did  —  or  pre- 
tended to  do.  Not  only  the  Poet,  but  the  Man,  he  said, 
who  loved  his  Home  as  well  as  Shakespeare  and  Scott 
loved  theirs  —  aye,  and  his  Country  Neighbours  too, 
though  perhaps  in  a  sedater  way;  and,  as  so  many 
of  his  Poems  show,  as  sensible  as  Sir  Walter  of  the 
sterling  virtues  of  the  Mountaineer  and  Dalesman  lie 
lived  among,  though,  maybe,  not  of  their  humour. 

"  Was  he  not  also  pretty  exact  in  his  office  of  stamp- 
distributor  among  them? "  asked  I. 

u  Come,  you  must  not  quarrel,  Doctor,  with  the  Busi- 
ness which,  as  with  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare,  may  have 
kept  the  Poetic  Element  in  due  proportion  with  the  rest 
—  including,  by  the  way,  such  a  store  of  your  Animal, 
laid  in  from  constant  climbing  the  mountain,  and  skat- 


EUPHRANOE.  311 

ing  on  the  lake,  that  he  may  still  be  seen,  I  am  told,  at 
near  upon  Eighty,  travelling  with  the  shadow  of  the 
cloud  up  Helvellyn.'' 

"  Bravo,  Old  Man  of  the  Mountains  !  "  said  I.  "  But, 
nevertheless,  it  would  not  have  been  amiss  with  him 
had  he  gone,  had  he  been  seut  earlier,  and  further,  from 
his  mountain-mother's  lap,  and  had  some  of  his  —  con- 
ceit, I  must  not  call  it  —  Pride,  then — taken  out  of  him 
by  a  freer  intercourse  with  men." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Euphranor,  again  laughing,  "you 
would  knock  a  young  Apollo  about  like  the  rest  of  us 
common  pottery  ? " 

"I  think  I  should  send  young  Wordsworth  to  that 
Military  Drill  of  ours,  and  see  if  some  rough-riding 
would  not  draw  some  of  that  dangerous  Sensibility 
which  'young  Edwin'  is  apt  to  mistake  for  poetical 
Genius." 

"Gray  had  more  than  that  in  him,  I  know,''  said 
Euphrauor  ;  "  but  I  doubt  what  might  have  become  of 
his  poetry  had  such  been  the  discipline  of  his  Eton 
day." 

''Perhaps  something  better  —  perhaps  nothing  at 
all  —  and  he  the  happier  man." 

"But  not  you.  Doctor  —  for  the  loss  of  his  Elegy  — 
with  all  your  talk.'' 

aNo  ;  I  am  always  remembering,  and  always  forget- 
ting it ;  remembering,  I  mean,  the  several  stanzas,  and 
forgetting  how  they  link  together  ;  partly,  perhaps,  be- 
cause of  each  being:  so  severallv  elaborated.  Neither 


312  EUPHRANOE. 

Yeomanry  Drill  —  nor  daily  Plough  —  drove  the  Muse 
out  of  Burns." 

"Nor  the  Melancholy  neither,  for  that . matter,"  said 
Euphranor.  "  Those  '  Banks  and  braes '  of  his  could 
not  bestow  on  him  even  the  i momentary  joy'  which 
those  Eton  fields  'beloved  in  vain'  breathed  into  the 
heart  of  Gray." 

"Are  you  not  forgetting,"  said  I,  "that  Burns  was 
not  then  singing  of  himself,  but  of  some  forsaken  dam- 
sel, as  appears  by  the  second  stanza,  which  few,  by  the 
way,  care  to  remember?  As  unremember'd  it  may  have 
been,"  I  continued,  after  a  pause,  "by  the  only  living  — 
and  like  to  live  —  Poet  I  had  known,  when,  so  many 
years  after,  he  found  himself  beside  that  'bonnie  Boon' 
and  —  whether  it  were  from  recollection  of  poor  Burns, 
or  of  '  the  days  that  are  no  more'  which  haunt  us  all,  I 
know  not  —  I  think  he  did  not  know — but,  he  some- 
how 'broke,'  as  he  told  me,  'into  a  passion  of  tears.' — 
Of  tears  which,  during  a  pretty  long  and  intimate  inter- 
course, I  had  never  seen  glisten  in  his  eye  but  once, 
when  reading  Virgil — '  dear  old  Virgil,'  as  he  call'd 
him  —  together :  and  then  of  the  burning  of  Troy  in  the 
Second  yEneid — whether  moved  by  the  catastrophe's 
self,  or  the  majesty  of  the  Verse  it  is  told  in  —  or,  as 
before,  scarce  knowing  why.  For,  as  King  Arthur 
shall  bear  witness,  no  yjoung  Edwin  he,  though,  as  a 
great  Poet,  comprehending  all  the  softer  stops  of  hu- 
man Emotion  in  that  Diapason  where  the  Intellectual, 
no  less  than  what  is  call'd  the  Poetical,  faculty  pre- 


•^?v~ 

£& 


EUPHRANOR,  313 

dominated.  As  all  who  knew  him  know,  a  Man  at  all 
points,  Euphranor  —  like  yonr  Digby,  of  grand  propor- 
tion and  feature,  significant  of  that  inward  Chivalry, 
becoming  his  ancient  and  honourable  race ;  when  him- 
self a  '  Yonge  Squire,'  like  him  in  Chaucer  ;  of  grete 
strength,'  that  could  hurl  the  crow-bar  further  than  any 
of  the  neighbouring  clowns,  whose  humours,  as  well  as 
of  their  betters, —  Knight,  Squire,  Landlord  and  Land- 
tenant, —  he  took  quiet  note  of,  like  Chaucer  himself. 
Like  your  Wordsworth  on  the  Mountain,  he  too,  when 
a  Lad,  abroad  on  the  Wold  ;  sometimes  of  a  night  with 
the  Shepherd ;  watching  not  only  the  Sheep  on  the 
greensward,  whom  individually  he  knew,  but  also 

'  The  fleecy  Star  that  bears 
Andromeda  far  off  Atlantic  seas  ' 

along  with  those  the  Zodiacal  constellations  which  Aries, 
I  think,  leads  over  the  field  of  Heaven.  He  then  observed 
also  some  of  those  uncertain  phenomena  of  Night :  un- 
surmised  apparitions  of  the  Northern  Aurora,  with 
some  shy  glimpses  of  which  no  winter  —  no,  nor  even 
summer  —  night,  he  said,  was  utterly  un visited;  and 
those  strange  voices,  whether  of  creeping  brook,  or 
copses  muttering  to  themselves  far  off  —  perhaps  the  yet 
more  impossible  Sea  —  together  with  '  nameless  sounds 
we  know  not  whence  they  come/  says  Crabbe,  but  all 
inaudible  to  the  ear  of  Day.  He  was  not  then,  I  suppose, 
unless  the  Word  spontaneously  came  upon  him,  think- 
ing how  to  turn  what  he  saw  and  heard  into  Verse ;  a 


314  EUPHRANOR. 

premeditation  that  is  very  likely  to  defeat  itself.  For 
is  not  what  we  call  Poetry  said  to  be  an  Inspiration, 
which,  if  not  kindling  at  the  sudden  collision,  or 
recollection,  of  Reality,  will  yet  less  be  quicken'd  by 
anticipation,  howsoever  it  may  be  controll'd  by  after- 
thought f " 

Something  to  this  effect  I  said,  though,  were  it  but 
for  lack  of  walking  breath,  at  no  so  long-winded  a  flight 
of  eloquence.  And  then  Euphranor,  whose  lungs  were 
so  much  in  better  order  than  mine,  though  I  had  left 
him  so  little  opportunity  for  using  them,  took  up  where 
I  left  off,  and  partly  read,  and  partly  told  us  of  a  delight- 
ful passage  from  his  Godefridus,  to  this  effect,  that,  if 
the  Poet  could  not  invent,  neither  could  his  Reader  under- 
stand him,  when  he  told  of  Ulysses  and  Diomed  listen- 
ing to  the  crane  clanging  in  the  marsh  by  night,  without 
having  experienced  something  of  the  sort.  And  so  we 
went  on,  partly  in  jest,  partly  in  earnest,  drawing 
Philosophers  of  all  kinds  into  the  same  net  in  which 
we  had  entangled  the  Poet  and  his  Critic  —  How  the 
Moralist  who  worked  alone  in  his  closet  was  apt  to  mis- 
measure  Humanity,  and  be  very  angry  when  the  cloth 
he  cut  out  for  him  would  not  fit — how  the  best  His- 
tories were  written  by  those  who  themselves  had  been 
actors  in  them  —  Gibbon,  one  of  the  next  best,  I  believe, 
recording  how  the  discipline  of  the  Hampshire  Militia 
he  served  as  Captain  in  —  how  odd  he  must  have  looked 
in  the  uniform  !  —  enlighten'd  him  as  to  the  evolutions 
of  a  Roman  Legion— And  so  on  a  great  deal  more; 


EUPHRANOR,  315 

till,  suddenly  observing  how  the  sun  had  declined  from 
his  meridian,  I  look'd  at  my  watch,  and  ask'd  my  com- 
panions did  not  they  begin  to  feel  hungry,  like  myself  ? 
They  agreed  with  me ;  and  we  turn'd  homeward :  and 
as  Lexilogus  had  hitherto  borne  so  little  part  in  the  con- 
versation, I  began  to  question  him  about  Herodotus  and 
Strabo,  (whose  books  I  had  seen  lying  open  upon  his 
table,)  and  drew  from  him  some  information  about  the 
courses  of  the  Nile  and  the  Danube,  and  the  Geography 
of  the  Old  World :  till,  all  of  a  sudden,  our  conversation 
skipt  from  Olympus,  I  think,  to  the  hills  of  Yorkshire 
—  our  own  old  hills  —  and  the  old  friends  and  neigh- 
bours who  dwelt  among  them.  And  as  we  were  thus 
talking,  we  heard  the  galloping  of  Horses  behind  us, 
(for  we  were  now  again  upon  the  main  road,)  and,  look- 
ing back  as  they  were  just  coming  up,  I  recognised 
Phidippus  for  one  of  the  riders,  with  two  others  whom 
I  did  not  know.  I  held  up  my  hand,  and  call'd  out  to 
him  as  he  was  passing ;  and  Phidippus,  drawing  up  his 
Horse  all  snorting  and  agitated  with  her  arrested  course, 
wheel'd  back  and  came  along-side  of  us. 

I  ask'd  him  what  he  was  about,  galloping  along  the 
road ;  I  thought  scientific  men  were  more  tender  of 
their  horses'  legs  and  feet.  But  the  roads,  he  said, 
were  quite  soft  with  the  late  rains;  and  they  were  only 
trying  each  other's  speed  for  a  mile  or  so. 

By  this  time  his  two  companions  had  pulled  up  some 
way  forward,  and  were  calling  him  to  come  011 :  but 
he  said,  laughing,  "  they  had  quite  enough  of  it,"  and 


316  EUPHRANOR, 

address'd himself  with  many  a  "  Steady! "  and  "  So !  So  ! " 
to  pacify  Miss  Middleton,  as  he  called  her,  who  still 
caper'd,  plung'd,  and  snatch'd  at  her  bridle ;  his  friends 
shouting  louder  and  louder — "  Why  the  Devil  he  didn't 
come  on  ? " 

He  waved  his  hand  to  them  in  return ;  and  with  a 
u  Confound"  and  "  Deuce  take  the  Fellow,"  they  set  off 
away  toward  the  town.  On  which  Miss  Middleton  be- 
gan afresh,  plunging,  and  blowing  out  a  peony  nostril 
after  her  flying  fellows ;  until,  what  with  their  dwin- 
dling in  distance,  and  some  expostulation  address' d  to 
her  by  her  Master  as  to  a  fractious  Child,  she  seem'd  to 
make  up  her  mind  to  the  indignity,  and  composed  her- 
self to  go  pretty  quietly  beside  us. 

I  then  asked  him  did  he  not  remember  Lexilogus, — 
(Euphranor  he  had  already  recognised,) — and  Phidip- 
pus,  who  really  had  not  hitherto  seen  who  it  was,  (Lexi- 
logus looking  shyly  down  all  the  while,)  call'd  out 
heartily  to  him,  and,  wheeling  his  mare  suddenly  be- 
hind us,  took  hold  of  his  hand,  and  began  to  inquire 
about  his  family  in  Yorkshire. 

"  One  would  suppose,"  said  I,  "  you  two  fellows  had 
not  met  for  years." 

"It  was  true,"  Phidippus  said,  "  they  did  not  meet  as 
often  as  he  wish'd;  but  Lexilogus  would  not  come  to 
his  rooms,  and  he  did  not  like  to  disturb  Lexilogus  at 
his  books;  and  so  the  time  went  on." 

I  then  inquired  about  his  own  reading,  which,  though 
not  much,  was  not  utterly  neglected,  it  seemed;  and  he 


EUPHRANOR,  317 

said  he  had  meant  to  ask  one  of  us  to  beat  something 
into  his  stupid  head  this  summer  in  Yorkshire. 

Lexilogus,  I  knew,  meant  to  stop  at  Cambridge  all 
the  long  vacation ;  but  Euphranor  said  he  should  be  at 
home,  for  anything  he  then  knew,  and  they  could  talk 
the  matter  over  when  the  time  came.  We  then  again 
fell  to  talking  of  our  County;  and  among  other  things 
I  asked  Phidippus  if  his  horse  were  Yorkshire, —  of  old 
famous  for  its  breed,  as  well  as  of  Riders, —  and  how 
long  he  had  her,  and  so  forth. 

Yorkshire  she  was,  a  present  from  his  Father,  "and 
a  great  pet,"  he  said,  bending  down  his  head,  which 
Miss  Middleton  answered  by  a  dip  of  hers,  shaking  the 
bit  in  her  mouth,  and  breaking  into  a  little  canter, 
which  however  was  easily  suppressed. 

"Miss  Middleton?"  said  I— "what,  by  Bay  Middle- 
ton  out  of  Coquette,  by  Tomboy  out  of  High-Life 
Below-Stairs,  right  up  to  Mahomet  and  his  Mares?" 

"  Right,"  he  answered,  laughing,  ''as  far  as  Bay  Mid- 
dleton was  concerned." 

"  But,  Phidippus,"  said  I,  "she's  as  black  as  a  coal!  " 

"And  so  was  her  Dam,  a  Yorkshire  Mare,"  he  an- 
swered ;  which,  I  said,  saved  the  credit  of  all  parties. 
Might  she  perhaps  be  descended  from  our  famous 
"  Yorkshire  Jenny,"  renowned  in  Newmarket  Verse  ? 
But  Phidippus  had  never  heard  of  "Yorkshire  Jenny," 
nor  of  the  Ballad,  which  I  promised  to  acquaint  him 
with,  if  he  would  stop  on  his  way  back,  and  dine  with  us 
at  Chesterton,  where  his  Mare  might  have  her  Dinner 


318  EUPHRANOR. 

too  —  all  of  us  Yorkshireraen  except  Lycion,  whom 
he  knew  a  little  of.  There  was  to  be  a  Boat-race, 
however,  in  the  evening,  which  Phidippus  said  he 
must  leave  us  to  attend,  if  dine  with  us  he  did;  for, 
though  not  one  of  the  Crew  on  this  occasion,  (not 
being  one  of  the  best,)  he  must  yet  see  his  own  Trin- 
ity boat  keep  the  head  of  the  River.  As  to  that,  I 
said,  we  were  all  bound  the  same  way,  which  indeed 
Euphranor  had  proposed  before :  and  so  the  whole 
affair  was  settled. 

As  we  went  along,  I  began  questioning  him  concern- 
ing some  of  those  Equestrian  difficulties  which  Euphra- 
nor and  I  had  been  talking  of :  all  which  Phidippus 
thought  was  only  my  usual  banter — "he  was  no  Judge 
—  I  must  ask  older  hands,"  and  so  forth  —  until  we 
reach'd  the  Inn,  when  I  begg'd  Euphranor  to  order  din- 
ner at  once,  while  I  and  Lexilogus  accompanied  Phidip- 
pus to  the  Stable.  There,  after  giving  his  mare  in 
charge  to  the  hostler  with  due  directions  as  to  her 
toilet  and  table,  he  took  off  her  saddle  and  bridle  him- 
self, and  adjusted  the  head-stall.  Then,  folio w'd  out  of 
the  stable  by  her  naming  eye  and  pointed  ears,  he  too 
pausing  a  moment  on  the  threshold  to  ask  me  "was  she 
not  a  Beauty?"  (for  he  persisted  in  the  delusion  of  my 
knowing  more  of  the  matter  than  I  chose  to  confess,) 
we  cross' d  over  into  the  house. 

There,  having  wash'd  our  hands  and  faces,  we  went 
up  into  the  Billiard-room,  where  we  found  Euphranor 
and  Lycion  playing, —  Lycion  very  lazily,  like  a  man 


EUPHRAXOR.  319 

who  had  already  too  much  of  it,  but  yet  nothing;  better 
to  do.  After  a  short  while,  the  girl  came  to  tell  us  all 
was  ready ;  and,  after  that  slight  hesitation  as  to  pre- 
cedence which  Englishmen  rarely  forget  on  the  least 
ceremonious  occasions, —  Lexilogus,  in  particular,  pans- 
ing  timidly  at  the  door,  and  Euphranor  pushing  him 
gently  forward, —  we  got  down  to  the  little  Parlour, 
very  airy  and  pleasant,  with  its  windows  opening  on 
the  bowling-green,  the  table  laid  with  a  clean  white 
cloth,  and  upon  that  a  dish  of  smoking  beefsteak,  at 
which  I,  as  master  of  the  Feast,  and,  as  Euphranor 
slyly  intimated,  otherwise  entitled,  sat  down  to  officiate. 
For  some  time  the  clatter  of  knife  and  fork,  and  the 
pouring  of  ale,  went  on,  mix'd  with  some  conversation 
among  the  young  men  about  College  matters :  till  Ly- 
cion  began  to  tell  us  of  a  gay  Ball  he  had  lately  been 
at,  and  of  the  Families  there;  among  whom  he  named 
three  young  Ladies  from  a  neighbouring  County,  by 
far  the  handsomest  women  present,  he  said. 

"  And  very  accomplished,  too,  I  am  told,'1  said  Euphra- 
nor. 

"Oh,  as  for  that,"  replied  Lycion,  "they  Valse  very 
well."  He  hated  "  your  accomplished  women,''  he  said. 

"  Well,  there,'1  said  Euphranor,  "  I  suppose  the  Doc- 
tor will  agree  with  you/1 

I  said,  certainly  Yah  ing  would  be  no  great  use  to  me 
personally — unless,  as  some  Lady  of  equal  size  and 
greater  rank  had  said,  I  could  meet  with  a  concave 
partner. 


320  EUPHRANOR. 

"One  knows  so  exactly,"  said  Lycion,  "  what  the  Doc- 
tor would  choose, —  a  woman 

'  Well  versed  in  the  Arts 
Of  Pies,  Puddings,  and  Tarts,' 

as  one  used  to  read  of  somewhere,  I  remember." 

"Not  forgetting,"  said  I,  "the  being  able  to  help  in 
compounding  a  pill  or  a  plaister ;  which  I  dare  say  your 
Great-grandmother  knew  something  about,  Lycion,  for 
in  those  days,  you  know,  Great  ladies  studied  Simples. 
Well,  so  I  am  fitted, —  as  Lycion  is  to  be  with  one  who 
can  Valse  through  life  with  him." 

"  l  And  follow  so  the  ever-rolling  Year 
With  profitable  labour  to  their  graves,' " 

added  Euphranor,  laughing. 

"  I  don't  want  to  marry  her,"  said  Lycion  testily. 

"  Then  Euphranor,"  said  I,  "  will  advertise  for  a 
4  Strong-minded'  Female,  able  to  read  Plato  with  him, 
and  Wordsworth,  and  Digby,  and  become  a  Mother  of 
Heroes.  As  to  Phidippus  there  is  no  doubt  —  Diana 
Vernon  — " 

But  Phidippus  disclaimed  any  taste  for  Sporting 
ladies. 

"Well,  come,"  said  I,  passing  round  a  bottle  of  sherry 
I  had  just  call'd  for,  "  every  man  to  his  liking,  only  all 
of  you  taking  care  to  secure  the  accomplishments  of 
Health  and  Good-humour." 

"Ah,  there  it  is,  out  at  last!  "  cried  Euphranor,  clap- 
ping his  hands  ;  "  I  knew  the  Doctor  would  choose  as 
Frederic  for  his  Grenadiers." 


EUPHRANOR.  321 

"  So  you  may  accommodate  me  with  a  motto  from 
another  old  Song  whenever  my  time  comes ; 

•'  Give  Isaac  the  Nymph  who  no  beauty  can  boast, 
But  Health  and  Good-humour  to  make  her  his  toast/ 

Well,  every  man  to  his  fancy  —  Here's  to  mine  !  —  And 
when  we  have  finished  the  bottle,  which  seems  about 
equal  to  one  more  errand  round  the  table,  we  will 
adjourn,  if  you  like,  to  the  Bowling-green,  which 
Euphranor  will  tell  us  was  the  goodly  custom  of  our 
Forefathers,  and  I  can  recommend  as  a  very  whole- 
some after-dinner  exercise." 

"Not,  however,  till  we  have  the  Doctor's  famous 
Ballad  about  Miss  Middleton's  possible  Great-Great- 
Grandmother,"  cried  Euphranor,  "  by  way  of  Pindaric 
close  to  this  Heroic  entertainment,  sung  from  the  Chair, 
who  probably  composed  it '' 

"  As  little  as  could  sing  it,"  I  assured  him. 

"  Oh,  I  remember,  it  was  the  Jockey  who  rode  her  !  " 

"  Perhaps  only  his  Helper,"  answered  I ;  "  such  bad 
grammar,  and  rhyme,  and  altogether  want  of  what  your 
man  —  how  do  you  call  him  —  G.  o.  E.  T.  H.  E. — '  Gewtij] 
will  that  do?—  calls,  I  believe,  Art:1 

''  Who  nevertheless  maintained,"  said  Euphranor, 
"that  the  Ballad  was  scarcely  possible  but  to  those 
who  simply  saw  with  their  Eyes,  heard  with  their  Ears 
—  and,  I  really  think  he  said,  fought  with  their  fists, — 
I  suppose  also  felt  with  their  hearts  —  without  any  no- 
tion of  'Art- — although  Goethe  himself,  Schiller,  and 


322  EUPHRANOR. 

Riickert,  and  other  of  your  aesthetic  Germans,  Doctor, 
have  latterly  done  best  in  that  line,  I  believe." 

"  Better  than  Cowper's  '  Royal  George,' "  said  I, 
"where  every  word  of  the  narrative  tells,  as  from  a 
Seaman's  lips?" 

"  That  is  something-  before  our  time,  Doctor." 

"  Better  then  than  some  of  Campbell's  which  follow'd 
it!  or  some  of  Sir  Walter's  ?  or  'The  Lord  of  Burleigh,' 
which  is  later  than  all?  But  enough  that  my  poor  Jock 
may  chance  to  sing  of  his  Mare  as  well  as  Shenstone  of 
his  Strephon  and  Delia." 

"  Or  more  modern  Bards  of  Codes  in  the  Tiber,  or 
Regulus  in  the  Tub,"  said  Euphranor. —  "  But  come  ! 
Song  from  the  Chair  ! "  he  call'd  out,  tapping  his  glass 
on  the -table,  which  Phidippus  echoed  with  his. 

So  with  a  prelusive  "  Well  then,"  I  began  — 

"  '  I'll  sing  you  a  Song-,  and  a  merry,  merry  Song  — 

By  the  way,  Phidippus,  what  an  odd  notion  of  merri- 
ment is  a  Jockey's,  if  this  Song  be  a  sample.  I  think  I 
have  observed  they  have  grave,  taciturn  faces,  especially 
when  old,  which  they  soon  get  to  look.  Is  this  from 
much  wasting,  to  carry  little  Flesh  —  and  large  — 
Responsibility?" 

"Doctor,  Doctor,  leave  your  —  faces,  and  begin!" 
interrupted  Euphranor.  UI  must  call  the  Chair  to 
Order." 

Thus  admonish'd,  with  some  slight  interpolations,  (to 
be  jump'd  by  the  ^Esthetic,)  I  repeated  the  poor  Ballad 


rt 


EUPHRANOR.  323 

which,  dropt  I  know  not  how  nor  when  into  my  ear,  had 
managed,  as  others  we  had  talk'd  of,  to  chink  itself  in 
some  corner  of  a  memory  that  should  have  been  occupied 
with  other  professional  jargon  than  a  "  Jockey's." 


"  I'll  sing  you  a  Song,  and  a  merry,  merry  Song, 

Concerning  our  Yorkshire  Jen ; 
Who  never  yet  ran  with  Horse  or  Mare, 
That  ever  she  cared  for  a  pin. 

II. 

When  first  she  came  to  Newmarket  town, 
The  Sportsmen  all  view'd  her  around ; 

All  the  cry  was,  'Alas,  poor  wench, 
Thou  never  can  run  this  ground  ! ' 

ill. 

When  they  came  to  the  starting-post, 

The  Mare  look'd  very  smart ; 
And  let  them  all  say  what  they  will, 

She  never  lost  her  start  — 

—  which  I  don't  quite  understand,  by  the  way :  do  you, 
Lycion  ? " —  No  answer. 


"  When  they  got  to  the  Two-mile  post, 

Poor  Jenny  was  cast  behind  : 
She  was  cast  behind,  she  was  cast  behind, 
All  for  to  take  her  wind. 

v. 

When  they  got  to  the  Three-mile  post, 
The  Marc  look1//  very  pah — 


324  EUPHRANOK. 

(Phidippus  !  "  —  His  knee  moved  under  the  table — ) 

"  SHE  LAID  DOWN  HER  EARS  ON  HER  BONNY  NECK, 
AND   BY  THEM   ALL   DID   SHE   SAIL  ; 

VI.         (Accelerando.) 

'  Come  follow  me,  come  follow  me, 

All  you  who  run  so  neat  ;  ' 
And  ere  that  you  catch  me  again, 
I'll  make  you  well  to  sweat.' 

vn.  (Grundioso.) 

When  she  got  to  the  Winning-post, 

The  people  all  gave  a  shout : 
And  Jenny  click'd  up  her  Lily-white  foot, 

And  jump'd  like  any  Buck. 

VIII. 

The  Jockey  said  to  her,  '  This  race  you  have  run. 

This  race  for  me  you  have  got ; 
You  could  gallop  it  all  over  again, 

When  the  rest  could  hardly  trot!'" 

"  They  were  Four-mile  Heats  in  those  days,  you  see, 
would  pose  your  modern  Middletons,  though  Miss 
Jenny,  laying  back  her  ears  —  away  from  catching  the 
Wind,  some  think — and  otherwise  'palej  with  the  dis- 
tended vein  and  starting  sinew  of  that  Three-mile  crisis, 
nevertheless,  on  coming  triumphantly  in,  click'd  up  that 
lily-white  foot  of  hers,  (of  which  one,  I  have  heard  say, 
is  as  good  a  sign  as  all  four  white  are  a  bad,)  and  could, 
as  the  Jockey  thought,  have  gallop'd  it  all  over  again  — 
( 'an't  you  see  him,  Phidippus,  for  once  forgetful  of  his 


EUPHRANOR.  325 

professional  stoicism,  (but  I  don't  think  Jockeys  were 
quite  so  politic  then,)  bending  forward  to  pat  the  bonny 
Neck  that  measured  the  Victory,  as  he  rides  her  slowly 
back  to  the —  Weighing-house,  is  it'? — follow'd  by  the 
scarlet-coated  Horsemen  and  shouting-  People  of  those 
days  f  —  all  silent,  and  pass'd  away  for  ever  now,  unless 
from  the  memory  of  one  pursy  Doctor,  who,  were  she 
but  alive,  would  hardly  know  Jenny's  head  from  her 
tail  —  And  now  will  you  have  any  more  wine  f "  said  I, 
holding  up  the  empty  decanter. 

Phidippus,  hastily  finishing  his  glass,  jump'd  up  ;  and, 
the  others  following  him  with  more  or  less  alacrity,  we 
all  sallied  forth  on  the  Bowling-green.  As  soon  as 
there,  Lycion  of  course  pull'd  out  his  Cigar-case,  (which 
he  had  eyed,  I  saw,  with  really  good-humoured  resigna- 
tion during  the  Ballad,)  and  offer'd  them  all  round,  tell- 
ing Phidippus  he  could  recommend  them  as  some  of 
Pontet's  best.  But  Phidippus  did  not  smoke,  he  said  ; 
which,  together  with  his  declining  to  bet  on  the  Boat- 
race,  caused  Lycion,  I  thought,  to  look  on  him  with 
some  indulgence. 

And  now  Jack  was  rolled  upon  the  green;  and  I 
bowl'd  after  him  first,  pretty  well ;  then  Euphranor  still 
better  ;  then  Lycion,  with  great  indifference,  and  indif- 
ferent success  ;  then  Phidippus,  who  about  rivall'd  me  ; 
and  last  of  all,  Lexilogus,  whom  Phidippus  had  been 
instructing  in  the  mystery  of  the  bias  with  some  little 
side-rolls  along  the  turf,  and  who,  he  said,  only  wanted 
a  little  practice  to  play  as  well  as  the  best  of  us. 


326  EUPHRANOR. 

Meanwhile,  the  shadows  lengthened  along  the  grass, 
and  after  several  bouts  of  play,  Phidippus,  who  had  to 
ride  round  by  Cambridge,  said  he  must  be  off  in  time  to 
see  his  friends  start.  We  should  soon  follow,  I  said ; 
and  Euphrauor  asked  him  to  his  rooms  after  the  race. 
But  Phidippus  was  engaged  to  sup  with  his  crew. 

"  Where  you  will  all  be  drunk,"  said  I. 

"No;  there,"  said  he,  uyou  are  quite  mistaken, 
Doctor." 

"Well,  well,"  I  said,  "away,  then,  to  your  race  and 
your  supper." 

"  Mstd  owEfjOvo?  ^X'.ZICOTOO,"  added  Euphranor,  smil- 
ing. 

"  Msra,  '  with,'  or  k  after/  "  said  Phidippus,  putting 
on  his  gloves. 

"Well,  go  on,  Sir,"  said  I, — "Xwrppovoc  ?" 

"  A  temperate  —  something  or  other — " 

"  HX'.XUOtOD  f  " 

"  Supper  ? —  he  hesitated,  smiling  — " '  After  a  tem- 
perate supper  T'; 

"  Go  down,  Sir ;  go  down  this  instant !  "  I  roar'd  out 
to  him  as  he  ran  from  the  bowling-green.  And  in  a  few 
minutes  we  heard  his  mare's  feet  shuffling  over  the 
stable  threshold,  and  directly  afterwards  breaking  into 
a  retreating  canter  beyond. 

Shortly  after  this,  the  rest  of  us  agreed  it  was  time  to 
be  gone.  We  walk'd  along  the  fields  by  the  Church, 
(purposely  to  ask  about  the  sick  Lady  by  the  way.) 
eross'd  the  Ferry,  and  mingled  with  the  crowd  upon 


/'.M 


EUPHRANOR.  327 

the  opposite  shore;  Townsmen  and  Gownsmen,  with 
the  tassell'd  Fellow-commoner  sprinkled  here  and  there 
—  Reading  men  and  Sporting  men  —  Fellows,  and  even 
Masters  of  Colleges,  not  indifferent  to  the  prowess  of 
their  respective  Crews  —  all  these,  conversing  on  all 
sorts  of  topics,  from  the  slang  in  BeJTs  Life  to  the  last 
new  German  Revelation,  and  moving  in  ever-changing 
groups  down  the  shore  of  the  river,  at  whose  farther 
bend  was  a  little  knot  of  Ladies  gathered  up  on  a  green 
knoll  faced  and  illuminated  by  the  beams  of  the  setting 
sun.  Beyond  which  point  wras  at  length  heard  some 
indistinct  shouting,  which  gradually  increased,  until 
"They  are  off  —  they  are  coming!''  suspended  other 
conversation  among  ourselves  ;  and  suddenly  the  head 
of  the  first  boat  turn'd  the  corner ;  and  then  another 
close  upon  it ;  and  then  a  third ;  the  crews  pulling  with 
all  their  might  compacted  into  perfect  rhythm  ;  and  the 
crowd  on  shore  turning  round  to  follow  along  with 
them,  waving  hats  and  caps,  and  cheering,  "  Bravo,  St. 
John's  !  "  "  Go  it,  Trinity  !  "  —  the  high  crest  and  blow- 
ing forelock  of  Phidippus's  mare,  and  he  himself  shout- 
ing encouragement  to  his  crew,  conspicuous  over  all  — 
until,  the  boats  reaching  us,  we  also  were  caught  up  in 
the  returning  tide  of  spectators,  and  hurried  back 
toward  the  goal ;  where  we  arrived  just  in  time  to  see 
the  Ensign  of  Trinity  lowered  from  its  pride  of  place, 
and  the  Eagle  of  St.  John's  soaring  there  instead.  Then, 
waiting  a  little  while  to  hear  how  the  winner  had  won, 
and  the  loser  lost,  and  watching  Phidippus  engaged 


328  EUPHEANOR. 

in  eager  conversation  with  his  defeated  brethren, 
I  took  Euphranor  and  Lexilogus  under  either  arm, 
(Lycion  having  got  into  better  company  elsewhere,)  and 
walk'd  home  with  them  across  the  meadow  leading  to 
the  town,  whither  the  dusky  troops  of  Gownsmen  with 
all  their  confused  voices  seem'd  as  it  were  evaporating 
in  the  twilight,  while  a  Nightingale  began  to  be  heard 
among  the  flowering  Chestnuts  of  Jesus. 


FINIS. 


POLONIUS. 


POLONIUS: 

A  COLLKCTION 

OF 

WISE  SAWS  AND  MODERN  INSTANCES. 


Therefore,  since  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit, 

And  tediousness  the  limbs  and  outward  flourishes, 

I    WILL    BE    BRIEF. 


(1852.) 


V- 


PREFACE. 


FEW  books  are  duller  than  books  of  Aphorisms  and 
Apophthegms.  A  Jest-book  is,  proverbially,  no 
joke ;  a  Wit-book,  perhaps,  worse ;  but  dullest  of  all, 
probably,  is  the  Moral-book,  which  this  little  volume 
pretends  to  be.  So  with  men :  the  Jester,  the  Wit,  and 
the  Moralist,  each  wearisome  in  proportion  as  each 
deals  exclusively  in  his  one  commodity.  "  Too  much  of 
one  thing,"  says  Fuller,  "  is  good  for  nothing." 

Bacon's  " Apophthegms"  seem  to  me  the  best  collec- 
tion of  many  men's  sayings ;  the  greatest  variety  of 
wisdom,  good  sense,  wit,  humour,  and  even  simple 
''  naivete,"  (as  one  must  call  it  for  want  of  a  native 
word,)  all  told  in  a  style  whose  dignity  and  antiquity 
(together  with  perhaps  our  secret  consciousness  of  the 
gravity  and  even  tragic  greatness  of  the  narrator)  add 
a  particular  humour  to  the  lighter  stories. 

Johnson  said  Selden's  Table-talk  was  worth  all  the 
French  "  Ana "  together.  Here  also  we  find  wit,  1m- 


334  PREFACE. 

mour,  fancy,  and  good  sense  alternating,  something  as 
one  has  heard  in  some  scholarly  English  gentleman's 
after-dinner  talk — the  best  English  common-sense  in 
the  best  common  English.  It  outlives,  I  believe,  all 
Selden's  books ;  and  is  probably  much  better,  collected 
even  imperfectly  by  another,  than  if  he  had  put  it- 
together  himself. 

What  would  become  of  Johnson  if  Boswell  had  not 
done  as  much  for  his  talk  f  If  the  Doctor  himself,  or 
some  of  his  more  serious  admirers,  had  recorded  it ! 

And  (leaving  alone  Epictetus,  A  Kempis,  and  other 
Moral  aphorists)  most  of  the  collections  of  this  nature 
I  have  seen,  are  made  up  mainly  from  Johnson  and  the 
Essayists  of  the  last  century,  his  predecessors  and  imi- 
tators ;  when  English  thought  and  language  had  lost  so 
much  of  their  vigour,  freshness,  freedom,  and  pictur- 
esqueness  —  so  much,  in  short,  of  their  native  character, 
under  the  French  polish  that  came  in  with  the  second 
Charles.  "When  one  lights  upon,  "He  who  " —  "  The  man 
who" — "Of  all  the  virtues  that  adorn  the  breast" — 
&c.,  —  one  is  tempted  to  swear,  with  Sir  Peter  Teazle, 
against  all  "sentiment"  and  shut  the  book.  How 
glad  should  we  be  to  have  Addison's  Table-talk  as 
we  have  Johnson's  !  and  how  much  better  are  Spence's 
Anecdotes  of  Pope's  Conversation  than  Pope's  own 
letters  ! 

If  a  scanty  reader  could,  for  the  use  of  yet  scantier 
readers  than  himself,  put  together  a  few  sentences  of 
the  wise,  and  also  of  -the  less  wise, —  (and  Tom  Tyers 


PREFACE.  335 

said  a  good  thing  or  two  in  his  day,*)  —  from  Plato, 
Bacon,  Rochefoucauld,  (roethe,  Carlyle,  and  others, —  a 
little  Truth,  new  or  old,  each  after  his  kind  —  nay,  of 
Truism  too,  (into  which  all  truth  must  ultimately  be 
dogs-eared,)  and  which,  perhaps,  "  the  wit  of  one,  and  the 
wisdom  of  many,"  has  preserved  in  the  shape  of  some 
nameless  and  dateless  Proverbs  which  yet  "  retain  life 
and  vigour,"  and  widen  into  new  relations  with  the 
widening  world  — 

Not  a  book  of  Beauties  —  other  than  as  all  who  have 
the  best  to  tell,  have  also  naturally  the  best  way  of  tell- 
ing it ;  nor  of  the  "  limbs  and  outward  flourishes  "  of 
Truth,  however  eloquent ;  but  in  general,  and  as  far  as 
I  understand,  of  clear,  decided,  wholesome,  and  availa- 
ble insight  into  our  nature  and  duties.  "  Brevity  is  the 
soul  of  Wit "  in  a  far  wider  sense  than  as  we  now  use 
the  word.  "  As  the  centre  of  the  greatest  circle,"  says 
Sir  Edward  Coke,  "  is  but  a  little  prick,  so  the  matter 
of  even  the  biggest  business  lies  in  a  little  room."  So 
the  u  Sentences  of  the  Seven  "  are  said  to  be  epitomes  of 
whole  systems  of  philosophy :  which  also  Carlyle  says 
is  the  case  with  many  a  homely  proverb.  Anyhow  that 

*  "  Tom  Tyers,"  said  Johnson,  "  describes  me  best,  '  a  ghost  who 
never  speaks  till  spoken  to.'  Another  sentence  in  Tom's  'Resolu- 
tions' still  remains  in  my  memory,  'Mem. —  to  think  more  of  the 
living  and  less  of  the  dead ;  for  the  dead  have  a  world  of  their 
own.'  "  Tom  was  the  original  of  Tom  Restless  in  the  Rambler,  a 
literary  gossip  about  London  in  those  days,  author  of  Anec- 
dotes of  Pope,  Addison,  Johnson,  &c.  Johnson  used  to  say  of 
him.  "  I  never  see  Tom  but  he  tells  me  something  I  did  not  know 
before.'' 


336  PREFACE. 

famous  My] csv  ayav,  the  boundary  law  of  Goodness 
itself,  as  of  all  other  things,  (if  one  could  only  know 
how  to  apply  it,)  brings  one  up  with  a  wholesome  halt 
every  now  and  then,  and  no  where  more  fitly  than  in  a 
book  of  this  kind,  though,  as  usual,  I  am  just  now  vio- 
lating in  the  very  act  of  vindicating  it.* 


The  grand  Truisms  of  life  only  life  itself  is  said  to 
bring  to  life.  We  hear  them  from  grandam  and  nurse, 

*  These  oracular  Truisms  are  some  of  them  as  impracticable  as 
more  elaborate  Truths.  Who  will  do  "  too  much"  if  he  knows  it 
/.s-  ' '  too  much  "  ?  "  Know  thyself  "  is  far  easier  said  than  done ;  and 
might  not  a  passage  like  the  following  make  one  suppose  Shakspeare 
had  Bacon  in  his  eye  as  the  original  Polonius,  if  the  dates  tallied  ? 

' '  He  that  seeketh  victory  over  his  nature,  let  him  not  set  him- 
self too  great,  nor  too  small,  tasks ;  for  the  first  will  make  him 
dejected  by  often  failures,  and  the  second  will  make  him  a  small 
proceeder  though  by  often  prevailing.  And  at  the  first  let  him 
practise  with  helps,  as  swimmers  do  with  bladders  or  rushes ;  but 
after  a  time  let  him  practise  with  disadvantages,  as  dancers  do  with 
thick  shoes.  For  it  breeds  perfection  if  the  practice  be  harder 
than  the  use.  Where  nature  is  mighty,  and  therefore  the  victory 
hard,  the  degrees  had  need  be,  first,  to  stay  and  arrest  nature  in 
time  :  like  to  him  that  would  say  over  the  four  and  twenty  letters 
when  he  was  angry ;  then  go  less  in  quantity,  as  if  one  should,  in 
forbearing  wine,  come  from  drinking  healths  to  a  draught  at  a 
meal,"  &c. 

If  all  chance  of  controlling  nature  depended  on  advice  like  this! 
What  is  too  great  for  a  man's  nature  ?  —  what  too  little  ?  what  arc 
bladders,  and  what  thick  shoes  ?  iclten  is  one  to  throw  off  one  and 
take  the  other  ?  He  was  a  more  effectual  philosopher  who  thought 
of  repeating  the  alphabet  when  he  was  angry;  though  it  is  not 
every  man  who  knows  when  he  is  that. 


PREFACE.  337 

write  them  in  copy-books,  biit  only  understand  them  as 
years  turn  np  occasions  for  practising  or  experiencing: 
them.  Nay,  the  longest  and  most  eventfnl  life  scarce 
suffices  to  teach  us  the  most  important  of  all.  It  is  Death, 
says  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  "  that  puts  into  a  man  all  the 
wisdom  of  the  world  without  saying  a  word."  Only 
when  we  have  to  part  with  a  thing  do  we  feel  its  value 
—  unless  indeed  after  we  have  parted  with  it  —  a  very 
serious  consideration. 

When  Sir  Walter  Scott  lay  dying,  he  called  for  his 
son-in-law,  and  while  the  Tweed  murmured  through 
the  w^oods,  and  a  September  sun  lit  up  the  towers, 
whose  growth  he  had  watched  so  eagerly,  said  to  him, 
"  Be  a  good  man ;  only  that  can  comfort  you  when  you 
come  to  lie  here  ! "  "Be  a  good  man  ! "  To  that  thread- 
bare Truism  shrunk  all  that  gorgeous  tapestry  of  writ- 
ten and  real  Romance ! 

u  You  knew  all  this,"  wrote  Johnson  to  Mrs.  Thrale, 
rallying  for  a  little  while  from  his  final  attack —  "You 
knew  all  this,  and  I  thought  I  knew  it  too :  but  I  know 
it  now  with  a  new  conviction." 

Perhaps,  next  to  realising  all  this  in  our  own  lives, 
(when  just  too  late,)  we  become  most  sensible  of  it 
in  reading  the  lives  and  deaths  of  others,  such  as 
Scott's  and  Johnson's ;  when  we  see  all  the  years  of 
life,  with  all  their  ambitions,  loves,  animosities, 
schemes  of  action  —  all  the"curas  supervacnas,  spes 
inanes,  et  inexspectatos  exitus  hujus  fugacissimae 
"  —  summed  up  in  a  volume  or  two;  and  what 


338  PREFACE. 

seemed  so  long  a  history  to  them,  but  a  Winter's  Tale 
to  us. 

Death  itself  was  no  Truism  to  Adam  and  Eve,  nor  to 
many  of  their  successors,  I  suppose;  nay,  some  of  their 
very  latest  descendants^  it  is  said,  have  doubted  if  it  be 
an  inevitable  necessity  of  life :  others,  with  more  prob- 
ability, whether  a  man  can  fully  comprehend  its  inevit- 
ableness  till  life  itself  be  half  over;  beginning  to  believe 
he  must  Die  about  the  same  time  he  begins  to  believe 
he  is  a  Fool. 


"As  are  the  leaves  on  the  trees,  even  so  are  man's  gener- 
ations ; 

This  is  the  truest  verse  ever  a  poet  has  sung' : 
Nevertheless  few  hearing  it  hear ;  Hope,  flattering  alway, 
Lives   in  the   bosom    of   all  —  reigns   in    the    blood   of   the 
Young." 


"  And  why,"  .says  the  note-book  of  one  '  nel  mezzo  del 
cainmin  di  nostra  vita,'  "  does  one  day  still  linger  in  my 
memory  ?  I  had  started  one  fine  October  morning  on  a 
ramble  through  the  villages  that  lie  beside  the  Ouse. 
In  high  health  and  cloudless  spirits,  one  regret  perhaps 
hanging  upon  the  horizon  of  the  heart,  I  walked  through 
Sharnbrook  up  the  hill,  and  paused  by  the  church  on 
the  summit  to  look  about  me.  The  sun  shone,  the 
clouds  new,  the  yellow  trees  shook  in  the  wind,  the 
river  rippled  in  breadths  of  light  and  dark ;  rooks  and 
daws  wheeled  and  cawed  aloft  in  the  changing  spaces 


PREFACE.  339 

of  blue  above  the  spire ;  the  churchyard  all  still  in  the 
sunshine  below." 

Old  Shallow  was  not  very  sensible  of  Death  even 
when  moralizing  about  old  Double's  —  "Certain,  'tis 
very  certain,  Death,  as  the  Psalmist  saith,  is  certain  to 
all  —  all  shall  die  —  How  good  a  yoke  of  bullocks  at 
Stamford  fair ! " 

Could  we  but  on  our  journey  hear  the  Truisms  of  life 
called  out  to  us,  not  by  Chapoue,  Cogan,  &c.,  but  by 
such  a  voice  as  called  out  to  Sir  Lancelot  and  Sir  Gala- 
had, when  they  were  about  to  part  in  the  forest  — 
"  Think  to  deo  wel ;  for  the  one  shall  never  see  the 
other  before  the  dredeful  day  of  dome ! " 

Our  ancestors  were  fond  of  such  monitory  Truisms 
inscribed  upon  dials,  clocks,  and  fronts  of  buildings  ;  as 
that  of  "Time -and  Tide  wait  for  no  man,"  still  to  be 
seen  on  the  Temple  sun-dial ;  and  that  still  sterner  one 
I  have  read  of,  "Go  about  your  business"  —  not  even 
moralizing  upon  me.  I  dare  say  those  who  came  sud- 
denly and  unaware  upon  the  rvw6'.  Xsaoiov  over  the 
Delphian  temple  were  brought  to  a  stand  for  a  while, 
some  thrown  back  into  themselves  by  it,  others  (and 
those  probably  much  the  greater  number)  seeing  noth- 
ing at  all  in  it. 

The  parapet  balustrade  round  the  roof  of  Castle  Ash- 
by,  in  Northamptonshire,  is  carved  into  the  letters, "  NISI 

DOMINUS     CUSTODIAT     DOMUM,     FRUSTRA     VIGILAT     QUI 

CUSTODIT  EAM."  This  is  not  amiss  to  decipher  as  you 
come  up  the  long  avenue  some  summer  or  autumn  day, 


« 


340  PREFACE. 

and  to  moralize  upon  afterwards  at  the  little  "  Rose  and 
Crown  "  at  Yardley,  if  such  good  Homebrewed  be  there 
as  used  to  be  before  I  knew  I  was  to  die.* 

We  move  away  the  grass  from  a  tombstone,  itself 
half  buried,  to  get  at  any  trite  memento  of  mortality, 
where  it  preaches  more  to  us  than  many  new  volumes 
of  hot-pressed  morals.  Not  but  we  can  feel  the  warn- 
ing whisper  too,  when  Jeremy  Taylor  tells  us  that  one 
day  the  bell  shall  toll,  and  it  shall  be  asked,  "For 
whom  ? "  and  answered,  "  For  us." 

Some  of  these  Truisms  come  home  to  us  also  in  the 
shape  of  old  Proverbs,  quickened  by  wit,  fancy,  rhyme, 
alliteration,  &c.  These  have  been  well  defined  to  be 
"  the  Wit  of  one  and  the  Wisdom  of  many ; "  and  are 
in  some  measure  therefore  historical  indexes  of  the 
nation  that  originates  or  retains  them.  Our  English 
Proverbs  abound  with  good  sense,  energy,  and  courage, 
as  compactly  expressed  as  may  be ;  making  them  prop- 
erly enough  the  ready  money  of  a  people  more  apt  to 

*  "  A  party  of  us  were  looking  one  autumn  afternoon  at  a  coun- 
try church.  Over  the  western  door  was  a  clock  with, '  THE  HOUR 
COMETH,'  written  in  gold,  upon  it.  Polonius  proceeded  to  explain, 
rather  lengthily,  what  a  good  inscription  it  was.  'But  not  very 
apposite,'  said  Kosencrantz,  '  seeing  the  clock  has  stopped.'  The 
sun  was  indeed  setting,  and  the  hands  of  the  clock,  glittering  full 
in  his  face,  pointed  up  to  noon.  Osric  however,  with  a  slight  lisp, 
said,  the  inscription  was  all  the  more  apt,  '  for  the  hour  would 
come  to  the  clock,  instead  of  the  clock  following  the  hour.'  On 
which  Horatio,  taking  out  his  watch,  (which  he  informed  us  was 
just  then  more  correct  than  the  sun,)  told  us  that  unless  we  set  off 
home  directly  we  should  be  late  for  dinner.  That  was  one  way  of 
considering  an  Inscription." 


w- 


PREFACE.  341 

act  than  talk.  "  They  drive  the  nail  home  in  discourse," 
says  Ray,  "and  clench  it  with  the  strongest  conviction." 

A  thoughtful  Frenchman  says  that  nearly  all  which 
expresses  any  decided  opinion  has  "  quelque  chose  de 
metrique,  on  de  mesure."  So  as  even  so  bare-faced  a 
truism  as  "  Of  two  evils  choose  the  least/'  (superfluous 
reason,  and  no  rhyme  at  all !)  is  not  without  its  secret 
poetic  charm.  How  much  vain  hesitation  has  it  not  cut 
short ! 

So  that  if  Cogan  and  Chapone  had  not  l>een  made 
poetical  by  the  gods,  but  only  brief  — 

Sometimes  indeed  our  old  friend  the  Proverb  gets  too 
much  clipt  in  his  course  of  circulation :  as  in  the  case 
of  that  very  important  business  to  all  Englishmen,  a 
Cold  —  "STUFF  A  COLD  AND  STARVE  A  FEVER,"  has 
been  grievously  misconstrued,  so  as  to  bring  on  the 
fever  it  was  meant  to  prevent. 

Certainly  Dr.  Johnson  (who  could  hit  hard  too)  not 
only  did  not  always  drive  the  nail  home,  but  made  it  a 
nail  of  wax,  which  Fuller  truly  says  you  can't  drive  at 
all.  "  These  sorrowful  meditations,"  the  Doctor  says  of 
Prince  Rasselas,  "fastened  on  his  mind;  he  passed  four 
months  in  resolving  to  lose  no  more  time  in  idle  re- 
solves ;  and  was  awakened  to  more  vigorous  exertion 
by  hearing  a  maid,  who  had  broken  a  porcelain  cup, 
remark  that  '  what  cannot  be  repaired  is  not  to  be 
regretted.'" 

But  perhaps  this  was  a  Maid  of  Honour.  If  so,  how- 
ever, it  proves  that  Maids  of  Honour  of  Rasselas'  court 


342  PREFACE. 

did  not  talk  like  those  of  George  the  Second's.  Witness 
jolly  Mary  Bellendeii's  letters  to  Lady  Suffolk. 

Swift  has  a  fashionable  dialogue  almost  made  up  of 
vulgar  adages,  which  I  should  have  thought  the  Beaux 
and  Belles  left  to  the  Mary  Bellendens  and  Country 
Squires  of  his  day  — 

"  Grounding  their  fat  faiths  on  old  country  proverbs." 

Nor  do  I  see  any  trace  of  it  in  the  comedies  of  Congreve, 
Vanbrugh,  &c.* 

Erasmus  says  that  the  Proverb  is  "  a  nonnullis  Gra3- 
eorum,"  thus  defined,  XOYO?  w^sXijj.oc  sv  TCO  [iuo,  sv  [xsTf/.a 
7C<xpa%p6<j>et  7:0X0  TO  ypvjai|j,ov  s/wv  sv  iowaj)."  The  defi- 
nition, it  might  seem  at  first,  rather  of  a  Fable,  or 
Parable,  than  a  Proverb.  But,  beside  that  the  titles  of 
many  fables  do  become  proverbs  —  "  Fox  and  Grapes," 

*  I  find  in  my  "  Complete  Correspondent,"  which  seems  begotten 
by  Dr.  Johnson  on  Miss  Seward,  the  following  advice  about  Pro- 
verbs. "  STYLE.  Vulgarity  in  language  is  a  proof  either  of  a  mean 
education  or  of  associating  with  low  company.  Coarse  Proverbial 
expressions  furnish  such  with  their  choicest  flowers  of  rhetoric. 
Instead  of  saying,  '  Necessity  compelled,'  such  an  one  would  say, 
'Needs  must  when  the  devil  drives.'  Such  vulgar  aphorisms  ought 
especially  to  be  rejected  as  border  upon  profaneness.  A  good 
writer  would  not  say,  'It  was  all  through  you  it  happened,'  but  'It 
happened  through  your  inattention,'"  &c. 

This  elegance  of  style  however  does  not  always  mend  the  mat- 
ter ;  as  we  read  in  Boswell  that  Dr.  Johnson,  having  set  the 
company  laughing  by  saying  of  some  lady  in  the  good  English  so 
natural  to  him,  "  She 's  good  at  bottom,"  tried  to  make  them  grave 
again  by,  "  What 's  the  laugh  for  ?  I  say  the  woman  is  fundament- 
ally good." 

The  following  is  one  of  Punch's  jokes ;  I  do  not  know  if  true  of 
the  author  referred  to  —  not  true,  I  should  suppose,  of  the  class  to 


PREFACE.  343 

"  Dog  in  Manger,"  &c.,  the  title  including  the  whole 
signification,  (like  those  "  Sentences  of  the  Seven,")  — so 
many  of  our  best  proverbs  are  little  whole  fables  in 
themselves  ;  as  when  we  say,  "  The  Fat  sow  knows  not 
what  the  Lean  one  thinks,"  &c. 

We  are  fantastic,  histrionic  creatures ;  having  so 
much  of  the  fool,  loving  a  mixture  of  the  lie,  loving  to 
get  our  fellow-creatures  into  our  scrapes  and  make  them 
play  our  parts  —  the  Ass  of  our  dulness,  the  Fox  of  our 
cunning,  and  so  on  —  in  whose  several  natures  those  of 
our  Neighbours,  as  we  think,  come  to  a  climax.  Certainly, 
swollen  Wealth  is  well  enacted  by  the  fat  sow  reclining 
in  her  sty,  as  a  Dowager  in  an  opera-box,  serenely  un- 
conscious of  all  her  kindred's  leanness  without.  The 
phrase  "  rolling  in  wealth "  too  suggests  the  same 
fable. 

which  he  belongs,  (except  as  regards  the  foolish  and  vulgar  use  of 
French) — but  very  true  of  the  Hammersmith  education,  of  which 
my  complete  Letter-writer  —  Correspondent,  I  mean  —  is  an  ex- 
ponent. 

DESULTORY    REFLECTIONS. 

BY    LORD    WILLIAM    LENNOX. 

INIQUITOUS  intercourses  contaminate  proper  habits. 

One  individual  may  pilfer  a  quadruped,  where  another  may  not 
cast  his  eyes  over  the  boundary  of  a  field. 

In  the  absence  of  the  feline  race,  the  mice  give  themselves  up  to 
various  pastimes. 

Feathered  bipeds  of  advanced  age  are  not  to  be  entrapped  with 
the  outer  husks  of  corn. 

Casualties  will  take  place  in  the  most  excellently  conducted 
family  circles. 

More  confectioners  than  are  absolutely  necessary  are  apt  to  ruin 
the  potage. —  LENNOX'S  Lacon. 


344  PREFACE. 

Indeed,  is  not  every  Metaphor  (without  which  we  can- 
not speak  five  words)  in  some  sort  a  Fable  —  one  thing 
spoken  of  under  the  likeness  of  another?  And  how 
easy  (if  need  were)  it  is  to  dramatise,  for  instance, 
Bacon's  figure  of  discovering  the  depth,  not  by  looking 
on  the  surface  ever  so  long,  but  beginning  to  sound  it ! 

And  are  these  Fables  so  fabulous  after  all  ?  If  beasts 
do  not  really  rise  to  the  level  on  which  we  amuse  our- 
selves by  putting  them,  we  have  an  easy  way  of  really 
sinking  to  theirs.  It  is  no  fable  surely  that  Circe  bodily 
transformed  the  captives  of  Sensuality  into  apes,  hogs, 
and  goats ;  as  Cunning,  Hypocrisy,  and  Rapacity  graft 
us  with  the  sharp  noses,  sidelong  eyes,  and  stealthy 
gait  of  wolves,  hyaenas,  foxes,  and  serpents ;  sometimes, 
as  in  old  fable  too,  the  mis-features  and  foul  expressions 
of  two  baser  animal  passions  —  as  lust  and  cunning  for 
instance,  with  perhaps  cruelty  beside  —  conform  man 
into  a  double  or  triple  monster,  more  hideous  than 
any  single  beast.  On  the  other  hand,  our  more  gener- 
ous dispositions  determine  outwardly  into  the  large 
aspect  of  the  lion,  or  the  horse's  speaking  eye  and  in- 
spired nostril.  "  There  are  innumerable  animals  to 
which  man  may  degrade  his  image,  inward  and  out- 
ward ;  only  a  few  to  which  he  can  properly  (and  that  in 
the  Affections  only)  level  it :  but  it  is  an  ideal  and 
invisible  type  to  which  he  must  erect  it." 

"  Such  kind  of  parabolical  wisdom,"  says  Bacon, 
u  was  much  in  use  in  ancient  times,  as  by  the  Fables  of 
^Esop,  and  the  brief  Sentences  of  the  Seven,  may  appear. 


PREFACE.  345 

And  the  cause  was,  for  that  it  was  then  of  necessity  to  ex- 
press any  point  of  reason  which  was  more  subtle  or  sharp 
than  the  vulgar  in  that  manner,  because  men  in  those 
times  wanted  both  variety  of  examples  and  subtlety  of 
conceit;  and  as  Hieroglyphics  were  before  letters,  so 
Parables  were  before  arguments." 

We  cannot  doubt  that  Christianity  itself  made  way 
by  means  of  such  Parables  as  never  were  uttered  before 
or  after.  Imagine  (be  it  with  reverence)  that  Jeremy 
Bentham  had  had  the  promulgation  of  it ! 

And  as  this  figurative  teaching  was  best  for  simple 
people,  "even  now,"  adds  Bacon,  "such  Parables  do 
retain  much  life  and  vigour,  because  Reason  cannot  be 
so  sensible,  nor  example  so  fit."  Next  to  the  Bible  para- 
bles, I  believe  John  Bunyan  remains  the  most  effective 
preacher,  among  the  poor,  to  this  day. 

Nor  is  it  only  simple  matters  for  simple  people  that 
admit  such  illustration.*  Again,  Bacon  says,  "  It  is  a 
rule  that  whatsoever  science  is  not  consonant  to  pre- 

*  Fable  might  be  made  to  exemplify  the  syllogism,  but  not  to 
illustrate  it.  "  The  Lion  swore  he  would  eat  all  flesh  that  came  in 
his  way.  One  day  he  set  his  paw  on  a  Polecat :  the  Polecat  pleaded 
that  he  was  small,  ill-flavoured,  &c.  ;  but  the  Lion  said,  'I  have 
sworn  to  eat  all  flesh  that  came  in  my  way:  you  are  flesh  come  in 
my  way ;  therefore  I  will  eat  you.'  "  The  syllogism  is  proved :  but 
the  speakers  do  not  illustrate,  but  obscure  it,  but  because  it  is  a 
matter  of  understanding,  of  which  no  animal  but  man  is  the  repre- 
sentative. Your  Lion,  noble  beast  as  he  is,  is  only  to  be  trusted 
with  an  Euthymeme.  One  sees  this  fault  in  the  Eastern  fables. 
Birds  and  beasts  are  made  to  reason,  instead  of  representing  the 
passions  and  affections  they  really  share  with  men.  This  also  is 
the  vital  fault  of  Drvden's  Hind  and  Panther. 


346  PREFACE. 

suppositions  must  pray  in  aid  Similitudes."  "  Neither 
Philosopher  nor  Historiographer,"  says  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney, "  could  at  the  first  have  entered  into  the  gates  of 
popular  judgment  if  they  had  not  taken  a  great  Pass- 
port of  Poetry,"  which  deals  so  in  Similitudes.  "  For 
he  "  (the  poet)  "  doth  not  only  show  the  way,  but  giveth 
so  sweet  a  prospect  into  the  way  as  will  entice  any  man 
to  enter  into  it.  Nay,  he  doth,  as  if  your  journey  should 
lie  through  a  fair  vineyard,  at  the  very  first  give  you  a 
cluster  of  grapes,  that,  full  of  that  taste,  you  may  long 
to  pass  further." 

Who  can  doubt  that  Plato  wins  us  to  his  Wisdom  by 
that  skin  and  body  of  Poetry  in  which  Sir  Philip  declares 
his  philosophy  is  clothed  ?  Not  the  sententious  oracle 
of  one  wise  man,  but  evolved  dramatically  by  many  like 
ourselves.  The  scene  opens  in  Old  Athens,  which  his 
genius  continues  for  us  for  ever  new;  the  morning 
dawns;  a  breeze  from  the  J3ga3an  flutters  upon  our 
foreheads ;  the  rising  sun  tips  the  friezes  of  the  Par- 
thenon, and  gradually  slants  upon  the  house  in  whose 
yet  twilight  courts  gather  a  company  of  white-vested, 
whispering  guests,  "  expecting  till  that  fountain  of  wis- 
dom," Protagoras,  should  arise  ! 

Carlyle  notices,  as  one  of  Goethe's  chief  gifts,  "  his 
emblematic  intellect,  his  never-failing  tendency  to  trans- 
form into  slmpe,  into  life,  the  feeling  that  may  dwell  in 
him.  Every  thing  has  form,  has  visual  existence ;  the 
poet's  imagination  bodies  forth  the  forms  of  things  un- 
seen, and  his  pen  turns  them  into  shape."  The  same  is, 


PREFACE.  347 

I  believe,  remarkable,  probably  too  remarkable,  in 
Richter :  and  is  especially  characteristic  of  Carlyle 
himself,  who  to  a  figurative  genius,  like  Goethe's,  adds 
a  passion  which  Goethe  either  had  not  or  chose  to  sup- 
press, which  brands  the  truth  double-deep.  And  who 
can  doubt  that  Bacon,  could  it  possibly  have  been  his 
own,  would  have  clothed  Beutham's  bare  argument  with 
cloth  of  gold  ? 

He  says  again,  "  Reasons  plainly  delivered,  and  always 
after  one  manner,  especially  with  fine  and  fastidious 
minds,  enter  heavily  and  dully;  whereas,  if  they  be 
varied,  and  have  more  life  and  vigour  put  into  them  by 
these  forms  and  imaginations,  they  carry  a  stronger  ap- 
prehension, and  many  times  win  the  mind  to  a  resolu- 
tion." Which,  if  it  be  true  in  any  matter,  most  of  all 
surely  in  morals,  for  the  most  part  so  old,  so  trite,  and, 
in  this  naughty  world,  so  dull.  Are  not  all  minds 
grown  "  fine  and  fastidious  "  iu  these  matters,  apt  to 
close  against  any  but  the  most  musical  voice  ? 

Which  also  (to  join  the  snake's  head  and  tail  of  this 
rambling  overgrown  Preface)  may  account,  rightly  or 
WTongly,  for  my  rejection  of  those  essayists  aforesaid, 
(who  crippled  their  native  genius  by  a  style  which  has 
left  them  "  more  of  the  ballast  than  the  sail,")  and  niy 
adoption  of  earlier  and  later  writers.  Not,  as  I  said 
before,  in  copious  draughts  of  their  eloquence  —  and 
what  pages  of  Bacon  and  Browne  it  is  far  easier  to  bear 
than  forbear !  —  but  where  the  writer  has  gone  to  the 
heart  of  a  matter,  the  centre  of  the  circle,  hit  the  nail 


348  PREFACE. 

on  the  head  and  driven  it  home  —  Proverb- wise,  in  fact. 
For  in  proportion  as  any  writer  tells  the  truth,  and  tells 
it  figuratively  or  poetically,  and  yet  so  as  to  lie  in  a  nut- 
shell, he  cuts  up  sooner  or  later  into  proverbs  shorter  or 
longer,  and  gradually  gets  down  into  general  circula- 
tion. 

Some  extracts  are  from  note-books,  where  the  author's 
name  was  forgot ;  some  from  the  conversation  of  friends 
that  must  alike  remain  anonymous ;  and  some  that 
glance  but  lightly  at  the  truth  are  not  without  purpose 
inserted  to  relieve  a  book  of  dogmatic  morals.  "  Durum 
et  durum  non  faciunt  murum." 

And  now  Mountain  opens  and  discovers  — 


POLONIUS: 

A  COLLECTION 
OF 

WISE  SAWS  AND  MODERN  INSTANCES. 


Therefore,  since  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit, 

And  tediousness  the  limbs  and  outward  flourishes, 

I    WILL   BE    BRIEF. 


POLO3STIUS: 

A  COLLECTION  OF  WISE  SAWS  AND  MODERN  INSTANCES. 


QUICKNESS  OF   WIT. 

I  MAKE  no  more  estimation  of  repeating  a  great  num- 
ber of  names  or  words  upon  once  hearing,  or  the  pour- 
ing forth  of  a  number  of  verses  or  rhymes  extempore, 
or  the  making  of  a  satirical  simile  of  every  thing,  or  the 
turning  of  evert/  thing  to  a  jest,  or  the  falsifying  or  contra- 
dicting of  every  thing  by  cavil,  or  the  like,  (whereof  in  the 
faculties  of  the  mind  there  is  great  copia,  and  such  as 
by  device  and  practice  may  be  brought  to  an  extreme 
degree  of  wonder,)  than  I  do  of  the  tricks  of  tumblers, 
f  unambules,  baladines  —  the  one  being  the  same  in  the 
mind  that  the  other  is  in  the  body ;  matters  of  strange- 
ness without  worthiness.  Bacon. 

''  Quickness  is  among  the  least  of  the  mind's  proper- 
ties, and  belongs  to  her  in  almost  her  lowest  state ;  nay, 
it  doth  not  abandon  her  when  she  is  driven  from  her 
home,  when  she  is  wandering  and  insane.  The  mad 
often  retain  it ;  the  liar  has  it ;  the  cheat  has  it ;  we 
find  it  on  the  race-course  and  at  the  card-table:  educa- 
tion does  not  give  it ;  and  reflection  takes  away  from 
it." 


POLONIUS.  351 

UWHEN    THE    CUP    IS    FULLEST    LOOK    THOU 
BEAR   HER   FAIREST." 

POWER  to  do  good  is  the  true  and  lawful  end  of 
aspiring.  For  good  thoughts,  though  God  accept 
them,  yet  towards  men  they  are  little  better  than 
good  dreams,  except  they  be  put  in  act;  and  that 
cannot  be  without  power  and  place,  as  the  vantage 
and  commanding  ground.  Bacon. 

We  are  all  here  fellow-servants,  and  we  know  not 
how  our  Grand  Master  will  brook  insolences  in  his 
family.  How  darest  them,  that  art  but  a  piece  of  earth 
that  Heaven  has  blown  into,  presume  thyself  into  the 
impudent  usurpation  of  a  majesty  unshaken? 

The  top  feather  of  the  plume  began  to  give  himself 
airs,  and  toss  his  head,  and  look  down  contemptuously 
on  his  fellows.  But  one  of  them  said,  "  Peace  !  we  are 
all  of  us  but  feathers  ;  only  he  that  made  us  a  plume 
was  pleased  to  set  thee  the  highest." 


It  is  a  sure  sign  of  greatness  whom  honour  amends. 

Bacon. 

"THE   HIGHER   THE   APE    GOES   THE  MORE   HE 
SHOWS   HIS   TAIL." 


DE   TE  FABULA. 


AN  Ass  was  wishing  in  a  hard  winter  for  a  little  warm 
weather,  and  a  mouthful  of  fresh  grass  to  knab  upon, 


352  POLONIUS. 

in  exchange  for  a  heartless  truss  of  straw,  and  a  cold 
lodging.  In  good  time,  the  warm  weather  and  the 
fresh  grass  comes  on ;  but  so  much  toil  and  business 
for  asses  along  with  it,  that  this  ass  grows  quickly  as 
weary  of  the  spring  as  he  was  of  the  winter.  His  next 
longing  is  for  summer :  but  what  with  harvest-work, 
and  other  drudgeries  of  that  season,  he  is  worse  now 
than  he  was  in  the  spring :  and  so  he  fancies  he  never 
shall  be  well  till  autumn  comes.  But  then  again,  what 
with  carrying  apples,  grapes,  fuel,  winter  provisions, 
&c.,  he  finds  himself  more  harassed  than  ever.  In  fine, 
when  he  has  trod  the  circle  of  the  year  in  a  course  of 
restless  labour,  his  last  prayer  is  for  winter  again,  and 
that  he  may  but  take  up  his  rest  where  he  began  his 

Complaint.  UEstrange's  Fables. 

And  follows  so  the  ever-rolling  year 
With  profitable  labour  to  his  grave. 


THE   PHILOSOPHEE, 

THE  name  of  "Wise"  seems  to  me,  O  Phaedrus,  a 
great  matter,  and  to  belong  to  God  alone.  A  man  may 
be  more  fitly  denominated  " philosophus,"  "would  be 
ivise,"  or  some  such  name.  Plato. 

The  philosopher  stations  himself  in  the  middle,  and 
must  draw  down  to  him  all  that  is  higher,  and  up  to 
him  all  that  is  lower :  and  only  in  this  medium  does  he 
merit  the  title  of  Wise.  Goethe. 


^ 


POLONIUS.  353 

Plato's  Philosopher  pursues  the  true  light,  yet  returns 
back  to  his  former  fellows  who  dwell  in  the  dark,  watch- 
ing shadows. 

"EVERY  OAK  MUST  BE  AN  ACORN." 

When  the  Balloon  was  first  discovered,  some  one  said 
to  Franklin,  "What  will  ever  come  of  it?"  Franklin 
pointed  to  a  baby  in  its  cradle,  and  said,  "  And  what 
will  ever  come  of  that  ? " 


TKOUBLES  OF  LIFE. 

I  AM  very  sorry  for  your  distresses ;  one  of  which  * 
I  think  is  of  the  number  of  the  ta  i'f '  fy-uv,  and  may  be 
put  an  end  to  at  any  time.  For  what  is  money  given 
for  but  to  make  a  man  easy  ?  And  if  others  will  be 
iniquitous,  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  have  re- 
course to  the  redime  te  captum  qiiam  queas  minimo:  a 
very  good  maxim,  which  we  learn  in  our  Grammar,  and 
forget  in  our  lives.  The  other  trouble  t  is  not  so  easily 
set  aside ;  but  it  has  the  comfort  of  necessity,  and  must 
be  borne  whether  you  will  or  not,  which  with  wise  men 
is  the  same  thing  as  choice :  for  a  fool  in  such  a  case 
goes  about  bellowing,  and  telling  everybody  he  meets 
(who  do  but  laugh  at  him)  what  a  sad  calamity  has 

*  Loss  of  money.  t  Sickness. 


354  POLONIUS. 

happened  to  him  ;  but  a  man  of  sense  says  nothing  and 
submits.    This  is  very  wise,  you  will  say ;  but  it  is  very 

true.  Jeremiah  Markland. 

"WHAT  CAN'T  BE  CURED  MUST  BE  ENDURED." 
"  PENNY  WISE,  POUND  FOOLISH." 

The  saying  of  a  noble  and  wise  counsellor  in  Eng- 
land is  worthy  to  be  remembered,  that,  with  a  pretty 
tale  he  told,  utterly  condemned  such  lingering  proceed- 
ings. The  tale  was  this  : — A  poor  widow  (said  he)  in 
the  country,  doubting  her  provision  of  wood  would  not 
last  all  the  winter,  and  yet  desiring  to  roast  a  joint  and 
a  hen  one  day  to  welcome  her  friends,  laid  on  two  sticks 
on  the  fire ;  but  when  that  would  scarce  heat  it,  she 
fetched  two  more;  and  so  still  burning  them  out  by 
two  and  two,  (whereas  one  fagot  laid  on  at  the  first 
would  have  roasted  it,)  she  spent  four  or  five  fagots 
more  than  she  needed :  and  yet  when  all  was  done,  her 
meat  was  scorched  of  one  side,  and  raw  of  the  t'other 
side  ;  her  friends  ill  content  of  their  fare  ;  and  she  en- 
forced, ere  winter  went  about,  to  borrow  wood  of  her 
poor  neighbours,  because  so  many  of  her  own  fagots 

were  spent.  Sir  J.  Harrington. 


VALOUR   AND   MERCY. 


THAT  Mercy  can  dwell  only  with  Valour,  is  an  old 
sentiment,    or    proposition,   which,   in  Johnson,   again 


POLONIUS.  355 

receives  confirmation.  Few  men  011  record  have  had  a 
more  merciful,  tenderly  affectionate  nature,  than  old 
Samuel.  He  was  called  the  Bear,  and  did  indeed  too 
often  look  and  roar  like  one,  being  forced  to  it  in  his 
own  defence;  yet  within  that  shaggy  exterior  of  his 
there  beat  a  heart  warm  as  a  mother's,  soft  as  a  little 
child's.  Nay,  generally  his  very  roaring  was  but  the 
anger  of  affection  ;  the  rage  of  a  bear  if  you  will ;  but 
of  a  bear  bereaved  of  her  whelps.  Touch  his  religion ; 
glance  at  the  Church  of  England,  or  the  divine  right ; 
and  he  was  upon  you  !  These  things  were  his  symbols 
of  all  that  was  good  and  precious  for  men :  his  very 
ark  of  the  covenant ;  whoso  laid  his  hand  on  them  tore 
asunder  his  heart  of  hearts.  Not  out  of  hatred  to  the 
opponent,  but  of  love  to  the  opposed,  did  Johnson  grow 
cruel,  fierce,  contradictory :  this  is  an  important  dis- 
tinction, never  to  be  forgotten  in  our  censure  of  his 
conversational  outrages.  But  observe  also  with  what 
humanity,  what  openness  of  love,  he  can  attach  himself 
to  all  things  —  to  a  blind  old  woman,  to  a  Doctor 
Levett,  to  a  Cat  Hodge  —  "  His  thoughts  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life  were  frequently  employed  on  his  de- 
ceased [friends ;  he  often  muttered  these  or  such-like 
words,  i  Poor  man  !  and  then  he  died  ! ' '  How  he 
patiently  converts  his  poor  home  into  a  Lazaretto  ;  en- 
dures, for  long  years,  the  contradiction  of  the  miserable 
and  unreasonable  —  with  him  unconnected,  save  that 
they  had  no  other  to  yield  them  refuge  !  Generous  old 
man  !  Worldly  possessions  he  has  little,  yet  of  this  he 


356  POLONIUS. 

• 

gives  freely ;  from  his  own  hard-earned  shilling,  the 
half-pence  for  the  poor,  that  waited  his  coming  out,  are 
not  withheld ;  the  poor  waited  the  coming  out  of  one 
not  quite  so  poor  !  A  Sterne  can  write  sentimentalities 
on  dead  asses :  Johnson  has  a  rough  voice,  but  he  finds 
the  wretched  daughter  of  vice  fallen  down  in  the  streets, 
carries  her  home  on  his  own  shoulders,  and,  like  a  good 
Samaritan,  gives  help  to  the  half -needy,  whether  worthy 

or  unworthy.  Carlyle. 

II  n'y  a  que  les  persounes  qui  ont  de  la  fermete  qui 
puissent  avoir  nne  veritable  douceur :  celles  qui  parois- 
sent  douces  ii'ont  ordinairement  que  de  la  foiblesse  qui 
se  convertit  aisement  en  aigreur.  Rochefoucauld. 

u  It  is  the  best  metal  that  bows  best,"  says  Fuller : 
and  "  the  sweet  wine  that  makes  the  sharpest  vinegar," 
says  an  old  proverb. 


HONESTY 

DOTH  not  consist  in  the  doing  of  one,  or  one  thou- 
sand, acts  never  so  well,  but  in  the  spinning  on  the 
delicate  thread  of  life,  though  not  exceeding  fine,  yet 
free  from  breaks  and  stains.  Sidney. 

Of  great  deeds  I  make  no  account ;  but  a  great  life  I 
reverence. — "  Splendida  facinora"  every  sinner  may 
perpetrate. 


POLONIUS.  357 

What  is  to  be  undergone  only  once  we  may  undergo  : 
what  must  be  comes  almost  of  its  own  accord.  The 
courage  we  desire  and  prize  is,  not  the  courage  to  die 
decently,  but  to  live  manfully; 


SOWING  THE   SEED. 

Sicetpeiv  ts  xapnov  Xaprto?  4]8iar/]c;  0s<Lv. 


Two  travellers  happened  to  be  passing  through  a 
town  while  a  great  fire  was  raging. 

One  of  them  sat  down  at  the  inn,  saying,  "  It  is  not 
my  business."  But  the  other  ran  into  the  flames,  and 
saved  much  goods  and  some  people. 

When  he  came  back,  his  companion  asked  him,  "And 
who  bid  thee  risk  thy  life  in  others'  business  ?  " 

"He,"  said  the  brave  man,  "who  bade  me  bury  seed 
that  it  may  one  day  bring  forth  increase." 

"  But  if  thou  thyself  hadst  been  buried  in  the  ruins  f  " 

"  Then  should  I  myself  have  been  the  seed." 

German. 

"  FUN    IN    THE   OLD   FIDDLE." 

As  Wilhelm,  contrary  to  his  usual  habit,  let  his  eye 
wander  inquisitively  over  the  room,  the  good  old  man 
said  to  him,  "  My  domestic  equipment  excites  your  at- 
tention. You  see  here  how  long  a  thing  may  last  ;  and 
one  should  make  such  observations,  now  and  then,  by 
way  of  counterbalance  to  so  much  in  the  world  that 
rapidly  changes  and  passes  away.  This  same  tea-kettle 


358  POLONIUS. 

served  my  parents,  and  was  a  witness  of  our  evening 
family  assemblages ;  this  copper  fire-screen  still  guards 
me  from  the  fire,  which  these  stout  old  tongs  help  me 
to  mend  ;  and  so  it  is  with  all  throughout.  I  had  it  in 
my  power  to  bestow  my  care  and  industry  on  many 
other  things,  and  I  did  not  occupy  myself  in  the  chang- 
ing these  external  necessaries,  a  task  which  consumes 
so  many  people's  time  and  resources.  An  affectionate 
attention  to  what  we  possess,  makes  us  rich ;  for  thereby 
we  accumulate  a  treasure  of  remembrances  connected 
with  indifferent  things.  In  us  little  men  such  little 
things  are  to  be  reckoned  virtue ." 

Wilhelm  Meister. 

And  as  of  family,  so  of  national,  monuments — "Ce 
sont  les  crampons  qui  unissent  une  generation  a  une 
autre.  Conservez  ce  qu'ont  vu  vos  Peres."  jonbert. 

"WISH   AND  WISH   ON." 

Such  as  the  chain  of  causes  we  call  Fate,  such  is  the 
chain  of  wishes;  one  links  on  to  another;  and  the 
whole  man  is  bound  in  the  chain  of  wishing  for  ever. 

Seneca. 

Who  has  many  wishes  has  generally  but  little  will. 
Who  has  energy  of  will  has  few  diverging  wishes. 
Whose  will  is  bent  on  one,  must  renounce  the  wishes 
for  many  things.  Who  cannot  do  this  is  not  stamped 
with  the  majesty  of  human  nature.  The  energy  of 
choice,  the  unison  of  the  various  powers  for  one,  is 


POLONIUS.  359 

only  will — born  under  the  agonies  of  self-denial  and 
renounced  desires. 

Calmness  of  will  is  a  sign  of  grandeur.  The  vulgar, 
far  from  hiding  their  will,  blab  their  wishes.  A  single 
spark  of  occasion  discharges  the  child  of  passion  into  a 
thousand  crackers  of  desire.  Lavater. 

Always  let  oneness  of  purpose  rule  over  a  boy.  He 
wanted  perhaps  to  have,  or  to  do,  some  certain  thing : 
oblige  him  then  to  take,  or  do  it.  Rich  to: 

"HUNT  MANY  HARES  AND  CATCH  NONE." 

"  THE  EYE  SEES  ONLY  WHAT  IT  HAS  IN  ITSELF  THE 
POWER  OF  SEEING." — Goethe. 

To  many  this  will  seem  a  truism,  who  would  think  it 
a  paradox  should  you  tell  them  they  saw  another  tree 
than  the  painter  did,  looking  at  the  same.  No  wonder 
then  if  they  see  something  very  different  from  Goethe 
in  this  sentence  of  his. 

1.  We  do  not  see  nature  by  looking  at  it.  We  fancy 
we  see  the  whole  of  any  object  that  is  before  us,  be- 
cause we  know  no  more  than  what  we  see.  The  rest 
escapes  us  as  a  matter  of  course;  and  we  easily  con- 
clude that  the  idea  in  our  minds  and  the  image  in 
nature  are  one  and  the  same.  But  in  fact  we  only  see 
a  very  small  part  of  nature,  and  make  an  imperfect 
abstraction  of  the  infinite  number  of  particulars  which 
are  always  to  be  found  in  it,  as  well  as  we  can.  Some  do 


360  POLONIUS. 

this  with  more  or  less  accuracy  than  others,  according 
to  habit  or  natural  genius.  A  painter,  for  instance, 
who  has  been  working  on  a  face  for  several  days,  still 
finds  out  something  new  in  it  which  he  did  not  notice 
before,  and  which  he  endeavours  to  give  in  order  to 
make  his  copy  more  perfect.  A  young  artist,  when  he 
first  begins  to  study  from  nature,  soon  makes  an  end  of 
his  sketch,  because  he  sees  only  a  general  outline  and 
certain  gross  distinctions  and  masses.  As  he  proceeds, 
a  new  field  opens  to  him  ;  differences  crowd  on  differ- 
ences ;  and  as  his  perceptions  grow  more  refined,  he 
could  employ  whole  days  in  working  upon  a  single  part, 
without  satisfying  himself  at  last,  Haziut. 

2.  So  says  Bacon,  "  That  is  the  best  part  of  beauty 
which  a  picture  cannot  express ;  no,  nor  the  first  sight 
of  life  neither. 

"  Directly  in  the  face  of  most  intellectual  tea-circles, 
it  may  be  asserted,  that  no  good  book,  or  good  thing  of 
any  sort,  shows  its  best  face  at  first :  nay,  that  the  com- 
monest quality  in  a  true  work  of  art,  if  its  excellence 
have  any  depth  and  compass,  is  that  at  first  sight  it 
occasions  a  certain  disappointment — perhaps  even, 
mingled  with  its  undeniable  beauty,  a  certain  feeling 

Of  aversion."  Carlyle. 

"  Most  men  are  disappointed  at  first  sight  of  the  sea; 
as  also  of  mountains,  which  a  novice  thinks  he  could 
soon  run  up,  till  his  eyes  learn  to  distinguish  those 


*> 

tf 


POLONIUS.  361 

aerial  gradations  which  soon  made  themselves  under- 
stood by  the  feet." 

"  The  shepherd  knows  every  sheep  in  his  flock  :  and 
Pascal  tells  us,  that  the  more  genius  a  man  has,  the 
more  he  will  see  of  it  in  other  men.  Indeed  the  clear 
eye  will  see  in  every  man  something  of  that  which  com- 
mon observers  are  apt  to  consider  the  property  of  a  few. 
If  no  two  sheep  —  nay,  it  is  said,  no  two  leaves  —  are 
alike,  how  much  less  any  two  men  !  " 

QUANTUM  SUMUS   SCIMUS. 


THE  SOLECISM  OF  POWER. 

THE  difficulties  in  Princes'  business  are  many  and 
great ;  but  the  greatest  difficulty  is  often  in  their  own 
mind.  For  it  is  common  with  princes,  saith  Tacitus,  to 
will  contradictories ;  "  sunt  plerumque  Regum  voluntates 
vehementes,  et  inter  se  contraries."  For  it  is  the  sole- 
cism of  power  to  think  to  command  the  end,  and  yet  not 
to  endure  the  mean. 

Princes  many  times  make  themselves  desires,  and  set 
their  hearts  on  toys ;  sometimes  upon  a  building ; 
sometimes  upon  erecting  of  an  order,  &c.  This  seemeth 
incredible  unto  those  that  know  not  the  principle,  that 
the  mind  of  man  is  more  cheered  and  refreshed  by 
profiting  in  small  things  than  by  standing  at  a  stay  in 
great, 


362  POLONIUS. 

FORGIVE  AND  FORGET. 

"  WHEN/'  said  Descartes,  "  a  man  injures  me,  I  strive 
to  lift  up  my  soul  so  high  that  his  offence  cannot  reach 
me." 

It  is  certain,  that  a  man  who  studieth  revenge,  keeps 
his  own  wounds  green,  which  would  otherwise  heal  and 

do  well.  Bacon. 

And  finally, 

Without  knowing  particulars,  I  take  upon  me  to 
assure  all  persons  who  think  that  they  have  received 
indignities  or  injurious  treatment,  that  they  may  depend 
upon  it  as  in  a  manner  certain,  that  the  offence  is  not 
so  great  as  they  imagine.  Bishop  Butler. 


INCONSTANCY. 

LE  sentiment  de  la  faussete  des  plaisirs  presents,  et 
1'ignorance  de  la  vanite  des  plaisirs  absents,  causent 

1'inCOnstance.  Rochefoucauld. 

"THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  ROAD  ALWAYS  LOOKS 
CLEANEST." 


THE  POOR. 


A  DECENT  provision  for  the  poor  is  the  true  test  of 
civilization.     Gentlemen  of  education  are  pretty  much 


POLONIUS.  363 

the  same  in  all  countries ;  the  condition  of  the  lower 
orders,  the  poor  especially,  is  the  true  mark  of  national 
discrimination.  Johnson. 

"  How  often  one  hears  an  English  gentleman  (as  good 
as  any  gentleman,  however)  mourning  over  the  loss,  as 
he  calls  it,  of  a  hundred  or  two  a  year  in  farming  his 
estate  —  so  fine  a  business  for  an  English  gentleman  !  '  It 
won't  do  —  it  won't  pay  —  he  must  give  it  up/  &c.  Why, 
what  do  his  fine  houses,  equipages,  gardens,  pictures, 
jewels,  dinners,  and  operas,  pay  ?  '  Oh,  but  there  he 
has  something  to  show  for  his  money.'  And  is  a  popu- 
lation of  honest,  healthy,  happy  English  labourers  — 
honest,  healthy,  and  happy,  because  constantly  em- 
ployed by  him,  with  proper  wages,  and  not  so  much 
labour  exacted  of  them  as  to  turn  a  man  into  a  brute  — 
is  not  tins  something  to  show  for  your  money  ?  as  good 
pictures,  jewels,  equipage,  and  music,  as  a  man  should 
desire  ?  " 

Not,  however,  to  be  bought  wholly  by  money 
wages  — 

"LOVE  IS   THE   TRUE   PRICE   OF   LOVE." 

Cash  payment  never  was,  or  could  be  (except  for  a 
few  years)  the  union  bond  of  man  to  man.  Cash  never 
yet  paid  one  man  fully  his  deserts  to  another ;  nor 
could  it,  nor  can  it,  now  or  henceforth  to  the  end  of  the 

World.  Carltjle. 


364  POLONIUS. 

On  a  rock-side  in  one  of  Bewick's  Vignettes,  we  see 
inscribed  what  should  never  be  erased  from  any  English- 
man's heart : 

Princes  and  lords  may  flourish  or  may  fade, 
A  breath  may  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made ; 
But  A  BOLD  PEASANTRY,  their  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed  can  never  be  supplied. 

Advice  well  remembered  by  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Duke  of 
Buccleugh,  "  one  of  those  retired  and  high-spirited  men 
who  will  never  be  known  until  the  world  asks  what 
became  of  the  huge  oak  that  grew  on  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  and  sheltered  such  an  extent  of  ground." 


THE  THREE  RACES. 

MACHIAVELLI  divides  men  into  three  classes : 

1.  Those  who  find  truth. 

2.  Those  who  follow  what  is  found. 

3.  Those  who  do  neither.     And  the  same  distinction 
is  observed  in  a  pack  of  fox  hounds,  only  that,  in  their 
case,  the  latter  class  are  soundly  beaten,  and,  if  incor- 
rigible, Imng. 


FOUND  OUT  BY  ONE'S  SIN. 


WHEN  the  sinner  shall  rise  from  his  grave,  there  shall 
meet  him  an  uglier  figure  than  ever  he  beheld  —  deformed 
—  hideous  —  of  <i  filthy  smell,  and  with  a  horrid  voice  ; 


POLONIUS.  365 

so  that  he  shall  call  aloud,  "  God  save  me !  what  art 
thou?" —  The  shape  shall  answer,  u  Why  wonderest 
thou  at  me  f  I  am  but  THINE  OWN  WORKS  ;  thou  didst 
ride  upon  me  in  the  other  world,  and  I  will  ride  upon 
thee  for  ever  here."  Jaidi-ud-Din  Biimi. 

"  TO-MORROW  AND   TO-MORROW  !  " 

The  procrastinator  is  not  only  indolent  and  weak,  but 

commonly  false.    Most  of  the  weak  are  false. 

Lavater, 

"  What  a  quantity,  not  of  time  only,  but  of  soul,  has 
been  spent  in  resolving  and  re-resolving  to  get  up  out 
of  bed  in  a  morning." 

"By  and  by,  is  easily  said"  —  and  re-said. 

Do  immediately  whatever  is  to  be  done.  When  a  regi- 
ment is  under  march,  the  rear  is  often  thrown  into  con- 
fusion because  the  front  do  not  move  steadily  and  with- 
out interruption.  It  is  the  same  thing  with  business  : 
if  that  which  is  first  in  hand  is  not  instantly,  steadily, 
and  regularly  despatched,  other  things  accumulate  be- 
hind, till  affairs  begin  to  press  all  at  once,  and  no  human 
brain  can  stand  the  confusion.  sir  w.  Hcott. 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER. 

IT  lias  been  the  plan  of  Divine  Providence,  to  ground 
what  is  good  and  true  in  religion  and  morals  on  the 
basis  of  our  good  natural  feelings.  What  we  are 


366  POLONIUS. 

towards  our  earthly  friends  in  the  instincts  and  wishes 
of  our  infancy,  such  we  are  to  become  at  length  towards 
God  and  man  in  the  extended  field  of  our  duties  as  ac- 
countable beings.  To  honour  our  parents  is  the  first 
step  towards  honouring  God;  to  love  our  brethren  ac- 
cording to  the  flesh,  the  first  step  to  considering  all  men 
our  brethren.  Hence  our  Lord  says  we  must  become  as 
little  children  if  we  would  be  saved ;  we  must  become 
in  his  church  as  men,  what  we  were  once  in  the  small 
circle  of  our  youthful  homes. 

The  love  of  private  friends  is  the  only  preparatory 
exercise  for  the  love  of  others.  It  is  obviously  impos- 
sible to  love  all  men  in  any  strict  and  true  sense.  What 
is  meant  by  loving  all  men,  is  to  feel  well  disposed 
towards  all  men,  to  be  ready  to  assist  them,  and  to  act 
towards  those  who  come  in  our  way  as  if  we  loved 
them.  We  cannot  love  those  about  whom  we  know 
nothing,  except  indeed  we  view  them  in  Christ,  as  the 
objects  of  his  atonement ;  that  is,  rather  in  faith  than 
in  love.  And  love,  besides,  is  a  habit,  and  cannot  be 
attained  without  actual  practice,  which  on  so  large  a 
scale  is  impossible.  We  see  then  how  absurd  it  is  when 
writers  (as  is  the  manner  of  some  who  slight  the  gos- 
pel) talk  magnificently  about  loving  the  whole  human 
race  with  a  comprehensive  affection,  of  being  the 
friends  of  mankind,  and  the  like-such  vaunting  profes- 
sions. What  do  they  come  to  ?  That  such  men  have 
certain  benevolent  feelings  towards  the  world, — feel- 
•inys,  and  nothing  more  —  nothing  more  than  unstable 


f^L 


POLONIUS.  367 

feelings,  the  mere  offspring  of  an  indulged  imagination, 
which  exist  only  when  their  minds  are  wrought  upon, 
and  are  sure  to  fail  them  in  the  hour  of  need.  This  is 
not  to  love  men,  but  to  talk  about  love. 

The  real  love  of  man  must  depend  on  practice,  and 
therefore  must  begin  by  exercising  itself  on  our  friends 
around  us,  otherwise  it  will  have  no  existence.  By  try- 
ing to  love  our  relations  and  friends ;  by  submitting  to 
their  wishes  though  contrary  to  our  own ;  by  bearing 
with  their  infirmities ;  by  overcoming  their  occasional 
waywardness  with  kindness ;  by  dwelling  on  their  ex- 
cellences, and  trying  to  copy  them  —  thus  it  is  that  we 
form  in  our  hearts  that  root  of  charity  which,  though 
small  at  first,  may,  like  the  mustard  seed,  at  last  even 
overshadow  the  earth.  The  vain  talkers  about  philan- 
thropy, just  spoken  of,  usually  show  the  emptiness  of 
their  profession  by  being  morose  and  cruel  in  the 
private  relations  of  life,  which  they  seem  to  account  as 
subjects  beneath  their  notice.  And  we  know,  from  the 
highest  of  all  authority,  that  one  can  only  learn  to  love 
God,  whom  one  has  not  seen,  by  loving  our  brothers 

whom  We  do  See.  Xeicman. 

To  a  lady  who  endeavoured  once  to  vindicate  herself 
from  blame  for  neglecting  social  attention  to  worthy 
neighbours,  by  saying,  u  I  would  go  to  them  if  it  would 
do  them  any  good,"  Johnson  said,  "  What  good  do  you 
expect,  Madam,  to  be  able  to  do  then  f  It  is  showing 
them  respect,  and  that  is  doing  them  good." 

BosicelVs  Johnson. 


368  POLONIUS. 

The  joys  and  loves  of  earth  the  same  in  heaven  will  be; 
Only  the  little  brook  has  widen'd  to  a  sea.  Trench. 


THE    WEAK    ARE    FALSE. 
"  HE   SHUTS  HIS   EYES   AND   THINKS  NONE   SEE." 

As  the  verse  noteth, 

"  Percontatorem  fugito,  nam  garrulus  idem  est," 

an  inquisitive  man  is  a  prattler;  so,  upon  the  like 
reason,  a  credulous  man  is  a  deceiver ;  as  we  see  it  in 
fame,  that  he  that  will  easily  believe  rumours,  will  as 
easily  augment  rumours,  and  add  somewhat  to  them 
of  his  own :  which  Tacitus  wisely  noteth  when  he  saith, 
"  Fingunt  simul  creduntque."  Bacon. 

Quack  and  dupe  are  upper-side,  and  under,  of  the 
self-same  substance ;  convertible  personages.  Turn  up 
your  dupe  into  the  proper  fostering  element,  and  he 
himself  can  become  a  quack:  there  is  in  him  the  due 
prominent  insincerity,  open  voracity  to  profit,  and 
closed  sense  to  truth ;  whereof  quacks  too,  in  all  their 
kinds,  are  made. 


FORMS    AND    CEREMONIES. 

CEREMONY  keeps  up  all  things  ;  't  is  like  a  penny  glass 
to  a  rich  spirit,  or  some  excellent  water ;  without  it  the 
water  would  be  spilt,  the  spirit  lost. 


POLONIUS.  369 

There  were  some  mathematicians  that  could  with  one 
fetch  of  their  pen  make  an  exact  circle,  and  with  the 
next  touch  point  out  the  centre.  Is  it  therefore  reason- 
able to  banish  all  use  of  compasses?  Set  forms  are  a 
pair  of  compasses. 


BUILDING. 

HE  that  builds  a  fair  house  on  an  ill  seat,  committeth 
himself  to  prison.  Neither  is  it  ill  air  only  that  maketh 
an  ill  seat;  but  ill  ways,  ill  markets,  and,  if  you  will 
consult  with  Momus,  ill  neighbours.  Bacon. 

BETTER    ONE'S    HOUSE    BE    TOO    LITTLE    ONE    DAY   THAN 
TOO   BIG   ALL   THE   YEAR   AFTER. 

Isaiah  says,  "great  men  build  desolate  places  for 
themselves  ;  "  which  doing,  Camden  says,  was  the  ruin 
of  good  housekeeping  in  England.  Fuller. 


IDLENESS. 

LA  paresse,  toute  languissante  qu'elle  est,  ne  laisse 
pas  d'en  etre  souvent  la  niaitresse ;  elle  usurpe  sur  tons 
les  desseins  et  sur  toutes  les  actions  de  la  vie ;  elle  y 
detruit  et  y  consume  insensiblement  les  passions  et  les 

VertllS.  Rochefoucauld. 

"AN  EMPTY  SKULL  IS  THE   DEVIL'S  WORKSHOP.'' 


370  POLONIUS. 

As  of  a  man,  so  of  a  people.  "  The  unredeemed  ugli- 
ness is  that  of  a  slothful  people.  Show  me  a  people 
energetically  busy  —  heaving,  struggling,  all  shoulders 
at  the  wheel;  their  heart  pulsing,  every  muscle  swell- 
ing with  man's  energy  and  will  —  I  will  show  you  a 
people  of  whom  great  good  is  already  predicable;  to 
whom  all  manner  of  good  is  certain  if  their  energy 

endure."  Carlyle. 

When  the  master  puts  a  spade  into  his  servant's  hand, 
He  speaks  his  wish  by  the  action,  needing  no  words  to 

declare  it: 

Thy  hand,  0  man,  like  that  spade,  is  God's  signal  to  thee, 
And    thine    own    heart's    thoughts    are    the    interpretation 

thereof.  Mesnavi  of  Jaldl-ud-Din  Rumi. 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    INDIFFERENCE. 

HORACE  WALPOLE  begged  of  Madame  du  Deffand  not 
to  love  or  trust  him,  or  any  one  else ;  not  to  run  into 
enthusiasm  of  any  sort  for  any  thing,  &c.  "  Vos  lecons, 
vos  reprimandes,"  she  replies,  "  out  eu  plus  d'effets  que 
vous  n'en  esperiez;  vous  m'avez  desabusee  de  bien  de 
(ihimeres ;  voits  avez  ete  parfaitement  seconde  par  la 
decrepitude  —  je  ne  cherche  plus  I'amitie,"  &c. 


KNOWLEDGE    AND    HALF-KNOWLEDGE. 

KNOWLEDGE  is  nothing  but  a  representation  of  truth — 
for  the  truth  of  being  and  the  truth  of  knowing  are 


POLONIUS. 


371 


one,  differing  no  more  than  the  direct  beam  and  the 
beam  reflected.  Bacon. 

Qui  respiciunt  ad  pauca  facile  pronuntiant. 

Bacon,  from  Aristotle. 

"  The  quick  decision  of  one  who  sees  half  the  truth." 


SELF-CONTEMPLATION. 

FINALLY,  we  have  read  in  these  three  thick  volumes  of 
letters  *  —  till,  in  the  second  thick  volume,  the  reading 
faculty  unhappily  broke  down,  and  had  to  skip  largely 
thenceforth,  only  diving  here  and  there  at  a  venture, 
with  considerable  intervals  !  Such  is  the  melancholy 
fact.  It  must  be  urged  in  defence  that  these  volumes 
are  of  the  toughest  reading ;  calculated,  as  we  said,  for 
Germany,  rather  than  for  England  or  us.  To  be  writ- 
ten with  such  indisputable  marks  of  ability,  nay,  of 
genius,  of  depth  and  sincerity,  they  are  the  heaviest 
business  we  perhaps  ever  met  with.  They  are  subjective 
letters :  what  the  metaphysicians  call  subjective,  not 
objective :  the  grand  material  of  them  is  endless  depic- 
turing of  moods,  sensations,  miseries,  joys,  and  lyrical 
conditions  of  the  writer ;  no  definite  picture  drawn,  or 
rarely  any,  of  persons,  transactions,  or  events,  which  the 
writer  stood  amidst  —  a  wrong  material,  as  it  seems  to  us. 
To  what  end  ?  To  what  end  f  we  always  ask.  Not  by 
looking  at  itself,  but  by  looking  at  things  out  of  itself, 

*  Kakel  Von  Ense's  Memoirs. 


372  POLONIUS. 

and  ascertaining  and  ruling  these,  shall  the  mind  become 
known.  "  One  thing  above  all  other,"  says  Goethe,  "  I 
have  never  thought  about  thinking."  What  a  thrift  of 
thinking  faculty  there  —  almost  equal  to  a  fortune  in 
these  days — "habe  nie  das  Denken  gedacht!"  But 
how  much  wastefuller  still  it  is  to  feel  about  feeling  ! 
One  is  wearied  of  that ;  the  -healthy  soul  avoids  that. 
Thou  shalt  look  outward,  not  inward.  Grazing  inward 
on  one's  own  self  —  why,  this  can  drive  one  mad,  like 
the  monks  of  Athos,  if  it  last  too  long.  Unprofitable 
writing  this  subjective  sort  does  seem ;  at  all  events,  to 
the  present  reviewer  no  reading  is  so  insupportable. 
Nay,  we  ask,  might  not  the  world  be  entirely  deluged 
by  it,  unless  prohibited  ?  Every  mortal  is  a  microcosm  ; 
to  himself  a  macrocosm,  or  universe  large  as  nature ; 
universal  nature  would  barely  hold  what  he  could  say 
about  himself.  Not  a  dyspeptic  tailor  on  any  shop- 
board  of  this  city  but  could  furnish  all  England,  the 
year  through,  with  reading  about  himself,  about  his 
emotions,  and  internal  mysteries  of  woe  and  sensibility, 
if  England  would  read  him.  It  is  a  course  which  leads 
no  whither ;  a  course  which  should  be  avoided. 

Carlylc. 


DIVES 


HAD  a  great  swamp  bequeathed  him.  He  drained, 
and  planted,  and  stocked  it  with  fish-ponds  and  game 
preserves,  and  enclosed  it  carefully,  so  that  he  might 
have  his  pleasure  there  alone. 


w 


POLONIUS.  373 

One  day  he  was  showing  it  to  an  aged  friend,  who 
admired  it  much,  but  said  it  wanted  one  thing  hugely. 

Dives  asked,  "  What  ?  " 

"  Know  you  not,"  replied  his  friend,  "  that  when  God 
Almighty  planted  Eden,  it  was  for  the  sake  of  putting 
man  therein  !  " 

"IT  TAKES  A  LONG  TIME  TO  PEEL  THE  WORLD'S 
PULSE." 

Such  is  the  complication  of  human  destinies,  that  the 
same  cruelties  which  stained  the  conquest  of  the  two 
Americas  have  been  renewed  under  our  eyes,  in  times 
which  we  believed  characterized  by  a  prodigious  pro- 
gress of  civilization,  and  a  general  mildness  of  manners  : 
and  yet  one  man,  scarcely  in  the  middle  of  his  career, 
might  have  seen  the  reign  of  terror  in  France,  the  in- 
human expedition  to  St.  Domingo,  the  political  reac- 
tions and  the  civil  wars  of  continental  Europe  and 
America,  the  massacres  of  Chios  and  Ipsara,  the  recent 
acts  of  atrocity  in  America,  its  abominable  slave-legis- 
lation, &c.  In  the  two  epochs  regrets  have  followed 
public  calamities  ;  but  in  our  times,  of  which  I  have 
traced  the  gloomy  remembrance,  still  more  unanimous 
regrets  have  been  more  loudly  manifested.  Philosophy, 
without  obtaining  victory,  has  started  in  defence.  The 
modern  tendency  is,  to  seek  freedom  by  laws,  order  by 
the  perfecting  of  institutions.  This  is  like  a  new  and 
salutary  element  of  the  social  order  ;  an  element  which 


374  POLONIUS. 

acts  slowly,  but  which  will  make  the  return  of  sanguin- 
ary commotions  less  frequent  and  more  difficult. 

Hiimboldt,  Ex.  Cr. 


TASTE, 

IF  it  means  anything  but  a  paltry  cormoisseurship, 
must  mean  a  general  susceptibility  to  truth  and  noble- 
ness ;  a  sense  to  discern,  and  a  heart  to  love  and  rever- 
ence all  beauty,  order,  goodness,  wheresoever  or  in 
whatsoever  forms  and  accompaniments  they  are  to  be 

Seen.  Carlyle. 

u  Taste  is  the  feminine  of  genius." 


THE  NEW  CHIVALRY. 

Two  boys  were  playing  at  chess.  A  knight  was 
broken,  so  they  put  a  pawn  to  serve  in  his  stead. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  the  kiiight  to  the  pawn,  "  whence  come 
you,  Sir  Snail-pace  ?  " 

But  the  boy  said  to  him,  "  Peace  !  he  does  the  same 

Service  as  yOU  !  "  German. 


WEAKNESS  AND  VIGOUR  OF  MIND. 

LA  foiblesse  est  le  seul  defaut  qu'on  ne  sauroit  cor- 
nger.  RocJiefoucauld. 


POLONIUS.  375 

Difficult  as  it  is  to  subdue  the  more  violent  passions, 
yet  I  believe  it  to  be  still  more  difficult  to  overcome  a 
tendency  to  sloth,  cowardice,  and  despondency.  These 
evil  dispositions  cling  about  a  man  and  weigh  him  down. 
They  are  minute  chains  binding  him  on  every  side  to 
the  earth,  so  that  he  cannot  even  turn  himself  to  make 
an  effort  to  rise.  It  would  seem  as  if  right  principles 
had  yet  to  be  planted  in  the  indolent  mind ;  whereas 
violent  and  obstinate  tempers  had  already  something  of 
the  nature  of  firmness  and  zeal  in  them  ;  or  rather,  what 
will  become  so  with  care,  exercise,  and  God's  blessing. 
Besides,  the  events  of  life  have  a  powerful  influence  in 
sobering  the  ardent  or  self-confident  temper ;  disap- 
pointments, pain,  anxiety,  advancing  years,  bring  with 
them  some  natural  wisdom,  as  a  matter  of  course.  On 
the  other  hand,  these  same  circumstances  do  but  exer- 
cise the  defects  of  the  timid  and  irresolute,  who  are 
made  more  indolent,  selfish,  and  faint-hearted  by  ad- 
vancing years,  and  find  a  sort  of  satisfaction  of  their 
unworthy  caution  in  their  experience  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  life.  Xeivman. 

*'  YOU  CAN'T  HANG  SOFT  CHEESE  ON  A  HOOK," 
"  NOR  DRIVE  A  NAIL  OF  WAX." 


CONTENT. 


THE  fountain  of  content  must  spring  up  in  the  mind; 
and  he  who  has  so  little  knowledge  of  human  nature  as 


376  POLONIUS. 

to  seek  happiness  by  changing  any  thing  but  his  own 
disposition,  will  waste  his  life  in  fruitless  efforts,  and 
multiply  the  griefs  which  he  purposes  to  remove. 

Johnson. 

CCELUM  NON  ANIMUM  MUTANT   QUI   TRANS  MARE 
CURRUNT. 

Contentment,  says  Fuller,  consisteth  not  in  heaping 
more  fuel,  but  in  taking  away  some  fire. 


CONVEESATION. 

COBBETT  used  to  say  that  people  never  should  sit 
talking  till  they  didn't  know  what  to  talk  about. 

HE    WAS    SCANT   O'   NEWS    WHA  TAULD 
HIS   FATHER  WAS   HANGED. 


THE   EULER, 

WHATEVER  the  world  may  think,  he  who  hath  not 
meditated  much  on  God,  the  human  mind,  and  the 
summum  bonum,  may  possibly  make  a  thriving  earth- 
worm, but  will  most  indubitably  make  a  sorry  patriot 
and  a  sorry  statesman.  Berkeley. 

No  man  ignorant  of  history  can  govern.  Neither  can 
the  experience  of  one  man's  life  furnish  example  and 
precedents  for  the  events  of  one  man's  life.  For  as  it 


POLONIUS.  377 

happeneth  sometimes  that  the  grandchild,  or  the  de- 
scendant, resembleth  the  ancestor  more  than  the  son ; 
so  many  times  occurrences  of  the  present  times  may 
sort  better  with  ancient  examples  than  with  those  of 
the  later  or  immediate  times.  And  lastly,  the  wit  of 
one  man  can  no  more  countervail  learning  than  one 
man's  means  can  hold  way  with  a  common  purse. 

In  the  discharge  of  thy  place,  set  before  thee  the  best 
examples;  for  imitation  is  a  globe  of  precepts:  and, 
after  a  time,  set  before  thee  thine  own  example ;  and 
examine  thyself  strictly  whether  thou  didst  best  at  first. 

Bacon. 


SNOB  AND  GENTLEMAN. 


THE  Fraction  asked  himself,  "  How  will  this  look  at 
Almack's  and  before  Lord  Mahogany'?''  The  perfect 
man  asked  himself,  "How  will  this  look  in  the  Uni- 
verse, and  before  the  Creator  of  man  ?  " 


Thi§  "Fraction"  appears  to  be,  in  other  words,  "A 
SNOB,"  whom  Thackeray  has  denned  to  be  "  one  who 
meanly  admires  mean  things." 

If  a  man  faithfully  follows  this  advice  of  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  he  can  never  hope  to  be  a  snob:  "Be  thou 
substantially  great  in  thyself,  and  greater  than  thou 
appearest  unto  others  ;  and  let  the  world  be  deceived 
in  thee  as  it  is  in  the  light  of  heaven." 


378  POLONIUS. 

It  has  been  said  that  in  all  Voltaire's  seventy  or 
eighty  volumes  there  is  not  one  great  thought  —  one, 
for  instance,  like  that  of  Sir  Thomas's  above, 

"PLAIN  LIVING  AND  HIGH  THINKING." 

Oh,  friend,  I  know  not  which  way  I  must  look 

For  comfort,  being,  as  I  am,  opprest 

To  think  that  now  our  life  is  only  drest 
For  show  —  mere  handywork  of  craftsman,  cook, 
Or  groom  !  we  must  run  glittering  like  a  brook 

In  the  open  sunshine,  or  we  are  unblest ; 

The  wealthiest  man  among  us  is  the  best : 
No  grandeur  now  in  nature  or  in  book 

Delights  us  —  rapine,  avarice,  expense, 
This  is  idolatry,  and  these  we  adore  ; 
PLAIN  LIVING  AND  HIGH  THINKING  ARE  NO  MORE  ! 

The  homely  beauty  of  the  good  old  cause 
Is  gone  —  our  peace,  our  fearful  innocence, 
And  pure  religion  breathing  household  laws. 

Si  ad  naturam  vives  nunquam  eris  pauper:  si  ad 
opinionem  nunquam  dives.  Epicurus. 


WOEDS  THE  SHADOWS  OF  DEEDS. 

THERE  is  in  Seneca's  114th  Epistle  a  very  remarkable 
passage  about  the  fashion  of  speech  at  Rome  in  his  day, 
which  is  unconsciously ,but  quite  substantially,  thus  trans- 
lated :  "  No  man  in  this  fashionable  London  of  yours," 
friend  Sauerteig  would  say,  "  speaks  a  plain  word  to 


POLONIUS.  379 

me.  Every  man  feels  bound  to  be  something  more 
than  plain :  to  be  pungent  withal,  witty,  ornamental. 
His  poor  fraction  of  sense  has  to  be  perked  up  into 
some  epigrammatic  shape,  that  it  may  prick  into  me ; 
perhaps  (this  is  the  commonest)  to  be  topsy-turvied, 
left  standing  on  its  head,  that  I  may  remember  it  the 
better.  Such  grinning  insincerity  is  very  sad  to  the 
soul  of  man.  A  fashionable  wit,  '  ach  Himmel ! '  if  you 
will  ask  which,  he  or  a  death's  head,  will  be  the  cheerier 
company  for  me,  pray  send  not  him." 

Insincere  speech,  truly,  is  the  prime  material  of  in- 
sincere action.  Action,  as  it  were,  hangs  dissolved  in 
speech  —  in  thought,  whereof  speech  is  the  shadow ; 
and  precipitates  itself  therefrom. 

Ubicunque  videris  orationem  corruptam  placere,  ibi 
mores  quoque  a  recto  descivisse  non  erit  dubium. 

Seneca. 


KNOWLEDGE  —  OPINION  —  IGNOEANCE. 

PERFECT  ignorance  is  quiet  — perfect  knowledge  is 
quiet  —  not  so  the  transition  from  the  former  to  the 

latter.  Carlyle. 

Les  sciences  ont  deux  extremites  qui  se  touchent ;  la 
premiere  est  la  pure  ignorance  naturelle  ou  se  trouvent 
tous  les  homines  en  naissant.  L'autre  extremite  est 
celle  ou  arrivent  les  grandes  ames,  qui,  ayant  parcouru 
tout  ce  que  les  homines  peuvent  savoir,  trouvent  qu'ils 


380  POLONIUS, 

ne  savent  rien,  et  se  rencontrent  dans  cette  meme  igno- 
rance d'oii  ils  etoient  partis.  Mais  c'est  une  ignorance 
savante  qui  se  connait. 

When  Newton  was  dying,  he  said  he  felt  just  like  a 
little  child  who  had  picked  up  a  few  pebbles  on  the 
shore,  while  the  great  ocean  lay  undiscovered  before 
him. 

Opinion  in  good  men  is  but  knowledge  in  the  making. 

Milton. 


PEGASUS  IN  HARNESS. 

MEN  of  great  parts  are  often  unfortunate  in  the  man- 
agement of  public  business,  because  they  are  apt  to  go 
out  of  the  common  road  by  the  quickness  of  their 
imagination.  This  I  once  said  to  my  Lord  Boling- 
broke,  and  desired  he  would  observe  that  the  clerks  in 
his  office  used  a  sort  of  ivory  knife  with  a  blunt  edge  to 
divide  a  sheet  of  paper,  which  never  failed  to  cut  it 
even,  only  requiring  a  strong  hand.  Whereas  if  they 
should  make  use  of  a  pen-knife,  the  sharpness  would 
make  it  go  often  out  of  the  crease,  and  disfigure  the 
paper.  sidft. 

A  man  had  a  plain  strong-bow  with  which  he  could 
shoot  far  and  true.  He  loved  his  bow  so  well  that  he 
would  needs  have  it  curiously  carved  by  a  cunning 
workman. 

It  was  done ;  and  at  the  first  trial,  the  bow  snapt.  , 

German. 


POLONIUS.  381 

TRAVEL. 

FOOL,  why  journeyest  thou  wearisomely  in  thy  anti- 
quarian fervour  to  gaze  on  the  stone  pyramids  of  Geeza, 
or  the  clay  ones  of  Sacchara?  These  stand  there,  as 
I  can  tell  thee,  idle  and  inert,  looking  over  the  desert 
foolishly  enough,  for  the  last  three  thousand  years. 
But  canst  thou  not  open  thy  Hebrew  Bible,  then,  or 
even  Luther's  version  thereof  ! 


Once  it  was,  u  Farewell,  Monsieur  Traveller;  look 
you  lisp,  and  wear  strange  suits;  disable  the  benefits  of 
your  own  country  —  be  out  of  love  with  your  nativity, 
and  almost  chide  God  for  making  you  that  countenance 
you  are  ;  or  I  will  scarce  think  you  have  swum  in  a 
gondola." 

We  may  now  add  —  "  You  must  swear  by  Allah, 
smoke  chibouques,  and  spell  Pasha  differently  from 
every  predecessor,  or  we  shall  scarce  believe  you  have 
been  in  a  hareem  !  " 

"  NEVER  WENT  OUT  ASS,   AND   CAME  HOME   HORSE." 

Still,  "  A  good  traveller,"  says  Shakspeare,  "  is  some- 
thing at  the  latter  end  of  a  dinner." 

If  the  golden  age  is  passed,  it  was  not  genuine.  Gold 
cannot  rust  nor  decay  ;  it  comes  out  of  all  admixtures, 
and  all  decompositions,  pure  and  indestructible.  If  the 


382  POLONIUS. 

golden  age  will  not  endure,  it  had  better  never  arise : 
for  it  can  produce  nothing  but  elegies  on  its  loss. 

A.  W.  Schlegel. 

It  is  the  weak  only  who,  at  each  epoch,  believe  man- 
kind arrive  at  the  culminant  point  of  their  progressive 
march.  They  forget  that  by  an  intimate  concatenation 
of  all  truths,  knowledge,  the  field  to  be  run  over,  be- 
comes more  vast  the  more  we  advance  ;  bordered  as  it 
is  by  an  horizon  that  continually  recedes  before  us. 

Humboldt. 

Multi  pertransibunt,  et  augebitur  scientia. 


FAUST 

Is  a  man  who  has  quitted  the  ways  of  vulgar  men 
without  light  to  guide  him  a  better  way.  No  longer 
restricted  by  the  sympathies,  the  common  interests,  and 
common  persuasions,  by  which  the  mass  of  mortals, 
each  individually  ignorant, —  nay,  it  may  be,  stolid,  and 
altogether  blind  as  to  the  proper  aim  of  life, —  are  yet 
held  together,  and  like  stones  in  the  channel  of  a  tor- 
rent, by  their  very  multitude  and  mutual  collisions  are 
made  to  move  with  some  regularity, —  he  is  still  but  a 
slave;  the  slave  of  impulses  which  are  stronger,  not 
truer  or  better,  and  the  more  unsafe  that  they  are 

Solitary.  Carlyle. 


POLONIUS.  383 

So  it  is  with  that  soul  who  had  built  herself  a  lordly 
pleasure-house  wherein  to  dwell  alone.  For  three  years 
she  throve  in  it  — 


Like  Herod  when  the  shout  was  in  his  ears, 
Struck  through  with  pangs  of  hell. 

A  spot  of  dull  stagnation,  without  light 
Or  power  of  movement,  seem'd  my  soul, 

Mid  downward  sloping  motions  infinite, 
Making  for  one  sure  goal. 

A  still  salt  pool,  lock'd  in  with  bars  of  sand, 
Left  on  the  shore,  that  hears  all  night 

The  plunging  seas  draw  backward  from  the  land 
Their  moon-led  waters  white. 

Remaining  utterly  confused  with  fears, 

And  ever  worse  with  growing  time, 
And  ever  unrelieved  by  dismal  tears, 

And  all  alone  in  crime.  Tennyson. 


"  NETHER   BARREL   BETTER   HERRING." 

SEE  how  in  the  fanning  of  this  wheat,  the  fullest  and 
greatest  grains  lie  ever  the  lowest ;  and  the  lightest  take 
up  the  highest  place.  Leiyhton. 

Voltaire  is  always  found  at  top  —  less  by  strength  in 
swimming,  than  by  lightness  in  floating. 

"HOW  WE  APPLES  SWIM!" 


384  POLONIUS. 

WEIGHT  AND  WORTH. 

AN  old  rusty  iron  chest  in  a  banker's  shop,  strongly 
locked  and  wonderfully  heavy,  is  full  of  gold.  This  is 
the  general  opinion  ;  neither  can  it  be  disproved,  pro- 
vided the  key  be  lost,  and  what  is  in  it  be  wedged  so 
close  that  it  will  not,  by  any  motion,  discover  the  metal 
by  clinking.  Swift. 

Lady  H.  Stanhope  records  that  Pitt  had  more  faith 
in  a  man  who  jested  easily,  than  in  one  who  spoke  and 
looked  grave  and  weighty  ;  for  the  first  moved  by  some 
spring  of  his  own  within,  but  the  latter  might  be  only 
a  buckram  cover  well  stuffed  with  other's  wisdom. 

Coleridge  used  to  relate  how  he  formed  a  great  notion 
of  the  understanding  of  a  solid-looking  man,  who  sat 
during  the  dinner  silent,  and  seemingly  attentive  to  his 
discourse.  Till  suddenly,  some  baked  potatoes  being 
brought  to  table,  Coleridge's  disciple  burst  out,  "Them's 
the  jockeys  for  me  ! " 


TO-DAY  AND  TO-MOEEOW. 

IT  is  no  very  good  symptom  either  of  nations  or  indi- 
viduals, that  they  deal  much  in  vaticination.  Happy 
men  are  full  of  the  present,  for  its  bounty  suffices 
them :  and  wise  men  also,  for  its  duties  engage  them. 
Our  grand  business  undoubtedly  is  not  to  see  what  lies 
dimly  at  a  distance,  but  to  do  what  lies  clearly  at  hand. 


POLONIUS.  385 

Knowest  tliou  YESTERDAY,  its  aim  and  reason  ? 

Workest  thou  well  TO-DAY  for  worthy  things  ? 
Then  calmly  wait  TO-MORROW'S  hidden  season, 

And  fear  not  thou  what  hap  soe'er  it  brings. 

Courage,  brother !  Get  honest,  and  times  will  mend. 

Carlyle. 


GUILELESSNESS. 

IN  spite  of  all  that  grovelling  minds  may  say  about 
the  necessity  of  acquaintance  with  the  world  and  with 
sin,  in  order  to  get  on  well  in  life,  yet,  after  all,  inex- 
perienced guilelessness  carries  a  man  on  as  safely  and 
more  happily.  The  guileless  man  has  a  simple  boldness 
and  a  princely  heart;  he  overcomes  dangers  which 
others  shrink  from,  merely  because  they  are  no  dangers 
to  him ;  and  thus  he  often  gains  even  worldly  advan- 
tages by  his  straightforwardness,  which  the  most  crafty 
persons  cannot  gain.  It  is  true -such  single-hearted  men 
often  get  into  difficulties,  but  they  usually  get  out  of 
them  as  easily ;  and  are  almost  unconscious  both  of 
their  danger  and  their  escape.  Newman. 

The  same  writer  notices  also  the  general  peace  and 
serenity  such  persons  enjoy,  who  suspect  nobody  and 
nothing ;  who  live  in  no  fear  of  their  own  plots  failing, 
counterplots  crossing,  and  equivocations  detecting  each 
other. 


386  POLONIUS. 

"  We  may  not  be  able  to  change  our  natures  from 
crooked  to  straight :  but  in  a  few  minutes  or  hours  we 
shall  be  called  on  to  speak  or  to  act  —  let  us  determine 
to  do  either,  for  once  at  least,  truly,  and  honestly,  and 
guilelessly." 


ATHEISM. 

DIDEROT'S  Atheism  comes,  if  not  to  much,  yet  to 
something ;  we  learn  this  from  it,  (and  from  what  it 
stands  connected  with,  and  may  represent  for  us,)  that 
the  mechanical  system  of  thought  is,  in  its  essence, 
atheistic ;  that  whosoever  will  admit  no  organ  of  truth 
bat  logic,  and  nothing  to  exist  but  what  can  be  argued 
of,  must  even  content  himself  with  this  sad  result,  as 
the  only  solid  one  he  can  arrive  at ;  and  so,  with  the 
best  grace  he  can,  of  the  asther  make  a  gas,  of  God  a 
force,  of  the  second  world  a  coffin,  of  man  an  aimless 
nondescript,  little  better  than  a  kind  of  vermin.  If 
Diderot,  by  bringing  matters  to  this  parting  of  the 
roads,  have  enabled  or  helped  us  to  strike  into  the  truer 
and  better  road,  let  him  have  our  thanks  for  it.  As  to 
what  remains,  be  pity  our  only  feeling:  was  not  his 
creed  miserable  enough  —  nay,  moreover,  did  not  he 
bear  its  miserableness,  so  to  speak,  in  our  stead,  so 
that  it  need  now  be  no  longer  borne  by  any  one  ? 

Carlyle. 

"ANTICHRIST  ALSO  BEARS  OUR  CROSS  FOR  us." 


POLONIUS.  387 

"  Ludovicus  Vives  has  a  story  of  a  clown  that  killed 
his  ass  because  it  had  drunk  up  the  moon,  and  he 
thought  the  world  could  ill  spare  that  luminary.  So  he 
killed  his  ass  '  ut  lunam  redderet.'  Poor  ass  !  '  He  has 
drunk  not  the  moon;  but  only  the  reflection  of  the 
moon  in  his  own  poor  water-pail.' " 

Tinkler  Ducket  was  convicted  of  atheism  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  brought  up  to  receive  sentence  of  expulsion 
before  eight  heads  of  colleges.  An  atheist  was  a  rare 
bird  in  those  days.  Bentley,  then  almost  eighty  years 
old,  came  into  the  room,  (he  was  one  of  the  caput,  I 
suppose,)  and,  being  almost  blind,  called  out,  "  Where's 
the  Atheist?"  Ducket  was  pointed  out  to  him  —  a 
little  thin  man.  "What!  is  that  the  Atheist?"  cries 
Bentley,  "I  expected  to  have  seen  a  man  as  big  as  Bur- 
rough  the  beadle ! "  * 


OLD  AGE. 

IT  is  a  man's  own  fault  —  it  is  from  want  of  use  —  if 
his  mind  grows  torpid  in  old  age.  Johnson. 

"A  man  should  keep  always  learning  something  — 
always,  as  Arnold  said,  keep  the  stream  running  — 
whereas  most  people  let  it  stagnate  about  middle  life." 

Goethe  is  a  great  instance  of  a  mind  growing,  growing, 
and  putting  out  fresh  leaves  up  to  eighty  years  of  life. 

*  Oiie  of  the  three  Esquire  Bedells  of  that  day,  celebrated  as, 
"  Pinguia  tergeminorum  abdomiua  Bedellomm." 


388  POLONIUS. 

GUILE. 

"  IN  looking  over  my  books  some  years  ago,  I  found 
the  following  memorandum :  '  I  am  this  day  thirty 
years  old,  and  till  this  day  I  know  not  that  I  have  met 
with  one  person  of  that  age,  except  in  my  father's 
house,  who  did  not  use  Guile,  more  or  less.' " 

John  Wesley. 


"  ENOUGH    IS    A    FEAST." 

A  MAN  came  home  from  the  sea-side,  and  brought 
some  shells  for  his  little  son.  The  boy  was  full  of 
wonder  and  delight :  he  counted  and  sorted  them  over 
and  over  again.  What  a  wonderful  place  must  the  sea- 
shore be !  , 

So  one  day  his  father  took  him  to  the  sea-shore.  The 
boy  picked  up  shell  after  shell,  each  seeming  fairer 
than  the  last;  threw  down  one  in  order  to  carry  another; 
till  growing  vexed  with  himself  and  the  shells,  he  threw 
all  away,  and  when  he  got  home,  also  threw  away  those 
his  father  had  given  him  before.  German. 


WIT. 

DISEUR   DE   BONS   MOTS  MAUVA1S   CARACTERE.      Pascal. 

PERHAPS  he  (Schiller)  was  too  honest,  too  sincere,  for 
the  exercise  of  Wit ;  too  intent  on  the  deeper  relation 


POLONIUS.  389 

of  things  to  note  their  more  transient  collisions. 
Besides,  he  dealt  in  affirmation,  and  not  in  negation : 
in  which  last,  it  has  been  said,  the  material  of  Wit 

Chiefly  lies.  Carlyle. 


A  CHAPTER  FEOM  LAVATEE. 

"FACE  TO  PACE  TRUTH  COMES  OUT  APACE." 
(If  you  have  but  an  eye  to  find  it  by.) 

THE  more  uniform  a  man's  step,  voice,  manner  of 
conversation,  handwriting  —  the  more  quiet  and  uni- 
form his  actions  and  character. 

Vociferation  and  calmness  of  character  seldom  meet 
in  the  same  person. 

(So  thought  Bacon,  who  desires  a  counsellor  to 
adopt  "  a  stedfast  countenance,  not  wavering  with 
action  as  in  moving  the  head  or  hand  too  much, 
which  showeth  a  fantastical  light  and  fickle  operation 
of  the  spirit;  and  consequently,  like  mind,  like  ges- 
ture," &c.) 

Who  writes  an  illegible  hand  is  commonly  rapid, 
often  impetuous  in  his  judgments. 

Who  interrupts  often  is  inconstant  and  insincere. 

The  side-glance,  dismayed  when  observed,  seeks  to 
insnare. 

He  who  has  a  daring  eye  tells  downright  truths,  and 
downright  falsehoods. 


390  POLONIUS. 

Softness  of  smile  indicates  softness  of  character.  An 
old  proverb  says,  "  A  smiling  boy  is  a  bad  servant." 
The  horse-laugh  indicates  brutality. 


LEARNING. 

IT  is  an  assured  truth  which  is  contained  in  the 

verses, 

Scilicet  ingenuas  didicisse  fideliter  artes 
Emollit  mores,  nee  sinit  esse  feros. 

It  taketh  away  the  wildness,  and  barbarism,  and 
fierceness  of  men's  minds  5  but  indeed  the  accent  had 
need  be  laid  upon  fideliter :  for  a  little  superficial  learn- 
ing doth  rather  work  a  contrary  effect.  It  taketh  away 
all  levity,  temerity,  and  insolency,  by  copious  sugges- 
tions of  all  doubts  and  difficulties,  and  acquainting  the 
mind  to  balance  reasons  on  both  sides,  and  to  turn 
back  the  first  offers  and  conceits  of  the  mind,  and  to 
accept  of  nothing  but  what  is  examined  and  tried.  It 
taketh  away  all  vain  admiration  of  any  thing,  which  is 
the  root  of  all  weakness;  for  all  things  are  admired 
because  they  are  new,  or  because  they  are  great.  For 
novelty,  no  man  that  wadeth  in  learning  or  contempla- 
tion thoroughly,  but  will  find  that  printed  in  his  heart 
—  Nil  novi  super  terrain.  Neither  can  any  man  marvel 
at  the  play  of  puppets,  that  goeth  behind  the  curtain, 
and  adviseth  well  of  the  motion.  And  for  magnitude, 


POLONIUS.  391 

as  Alexander  the  Great,  after  he  was  used  to  great 
armies,  and  the  great  conquests  of  the  spacious  prov- 
inces in  Asia,  when  he  received  letters  out  of  Greece  of 
some  fights  and  services  there,  which  were  commonly 
for  a  passage,  or  a  fort,  or  some  walled  town  at  most, 
he  said,  "  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  advertised  of 
the  Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice,  that  the  old  tales 
went  of  j "  so  certainly,  if  a  man  meditate  upon  the 
universal  frame  of  nature,  the  Earth,  with  men  upon  it, 
(the  divineness  of  souls  excepted,)  will  not  serve  much 
other  than  an  ant-hill,  where  some  ants  carry  corn,  and 
some  carry  their  young,  and  some  go  empty,  and  all  to 
and  fro  a  little  heap  of  dust.  It  taketh  away  or  miti- 
gateth  fear  of  death,  or  adverse  fortune  ;  which  is  one 
of  the  greatest  impediments  of  virtue,  and  imperfec- 
tions of  manners.  For  if  a  man's  mind  be  deeply 
seasoned  with  the  consideration  of  the  mortality  and  cor- 
ruptible nature  of  things,  he  will  easily  concur  with 
Epictetus,  who  went  forth  one  day,  and  saw  a  woman 
weeping  for  her  pitcher  of  earth  that  was  broken  ;  and 
went  forth  the  next  day,  and  saw  a  woman  weeping  for 
her  son  that  was  dead ;  and  therefore  said,  "  Heri  vidi 
fragilem  fraugi ;  hodie  vidi  mortalem  mori."  And 
therefore  did  Virgil  excellently  and  profoundly  couple 
the  knowledge  of  causes  and  the  conquest  of  all  fears 
together  as  concomitantia  : 

Felix  qui  potuit  rerum  coguoscere  causas, 
Quique  metus  omnes,  et  inexorabile  fatum, 
Subjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari. 


392  POLONIUS. 

I  will  conclude  with  that  which  hath  rationem  totiws; 
which  is  that  it  disposeth  the  constitution  of  the  mind 
not  to  be  fixed  or  settled  in  the  defects  thereof,  but  still 
to  be  capable  and  susceptible  of  growth  and  reforma- 
tion. For  the  unlearned  man  knows  not  what  it  is  to 
descend  into  himself,  or  to  call  himself  to  account ;  nor 
the  pleasure  of  that  "  suavissima  vita,  indies  sentire  se 
fieri  meUorem."  The  good  parts  he  hath  he  will  learn 
to  show  to  the  full,  and  use  them  dexterously,  but  not 
much  to  increase  them;  the  faults  he  hath,  he  will 
learn  how  to  hide  and  colour  them,  but  not  much  to 
amend  them :  like  an  ill  mower,  that  mows  on  still,  and 
never  whets  his  scythe.  Whereas  with  the  learned  man 
it  fares  otherwise,  that  he  doth  ever  intermix  the  cor- 
rection and  amendment  of  his  mind  with  the  use  and 
employment  thereof.  Nay,  further,  in  general  and  in 
sum,  certain  it  is  that  Veritas  and  Bonitas  differ  but  as 
the  seal  and  print ;  for  Truth  prints  Goodness ;  and 
they  be  the  clouds  of  error,  which  descend  in  the 
storms  of  passions  and  perturbations. 

Bacon's  Advancement. 

He  a  scholar!     No,  a  Witling  can't  be  a  scholar. 
Knowledge  is  a  great  calmer  of  people's  minds. 

Wilson. 


MIMICEY. 

"  TELL  me  of  any  animal  I  cannot  imitate/'  said  the  Ape. 
"And  tell  me,"  answered  the  Fox,  "of  any  animal 
that  will  imitate  you."  German. 


POLONIUS.  393 

WILL  AND  REASON. 
"NONE  so  BLIND  AS  THOSE  THAT  WON'T  SEE." 

BAXTER  was  credulous  and  incredulous  for  precisely 
the  same  reason.  Possessing  by  habit  a  mastery  over 
his  thoughts  such  as  few  men  ever  acquired,  a  single 
effort  of  the  will  was  sufficient  to  exclude  from  his  view 
whatever  he  judged  hostile  to  his  immediate  purpose. 
Every  prejudice  was  at  once  banished,  when  any  de- 
batable point  was  to  be  scrutinised,  and  with  equal 
facility  every  reasonable  doubt  was  exiled  when  his 
only  object  was  to  enforce  or  to  illustrate  a  doctrine  of 

the  truth  of  which  he  Was  assured.  Edinburgh  Review. 

So  says  Pascal,  who  was  a  good  instance  of  his  own 
theory.  "  La  volonte  est  un  des  priucipaux  organes  de 
la  croyance  :  non  qu'elle  forme  la  croyance  j  mais  par  ce 
que  les  choses  paroissent  vraies  ou  fausses,  selon  la  face 
par  on  on  les  regarde.  La  volonte,  qui  se  plaist  a  1'ime 
plus  qu'a  Fautre,  detourne  1'esprit  de  considerer  les  qnali- 
tes  de  celle  qu'elle  n'aime  pas ;  et  ainsi  1'esprit  marchant 
d'une  piece  avec  la  volonte,  s'arrete  a  regarder  la  face 
qu'elle  aime  ;  et  jugeant  par  ce  qu'il  y  voit,  regie  insensi- 
blement  sa  croyance  suivant  l'inclination  de  la  volonte." 

"  Happy,"  continues  the  Edinburgh  Review,  "  happy 
they,  who,  like  Baxter,  have  so  disciplined  their  affec- 
tions as  to  disarm  their  temporary  usurpation  of  all  its 
more  dangerous  tendencies." 

HE  THAT'S  CONVINCED  AGAINST  HIS  WILL, 
IS  OF  THE  SAME  OPINION  STILL. 


394  POLONIUS. 

POVERTY. 

"THE  GOAT  MUST  BROWSE  WHERE  SHE  is  TIED." 

POVERTY,  we  may  say,  surrounds  a  man  with  ready- 
made  barriers,  which,  if  they  do  mournfully  gall  and 
hamper,  do  at  least  prescribe  for  him,  and  force  on  him, 
a  sort  of  course  and  goal ;  a  safe  and  beaten,  though  a 
circuitous  course.  A  great  part  of  his  guidance  is  se- 
cure against  fatal  error,  is  withdrawn  from  his  control. 
The  rich,  again,  has  his  whole  life  to  guide,  without 
goal  or  barrier,  save  of  his  own  choosing;  and  tempted, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  too  likely  to  guide  it  ill.  cariyie. 

I  cannot  but  say  to  Poverty,  "  Welcome  !  so  thou 
come  not  too  late  in  life." 


CONVERSATION  AND  TALK. 

To  make  a  good  Converser,  good  taste,  extensive  in- 
formation, and  accomplishments  are  the  chief  requisites : 
to  which  may  be  added  an  easy  and  elegant  delivery 
and  a  well-toned  voice.  I  think  the  higher  order  of 
genius  is  not  favourable  to  this  talent.  sir  w.  Scott. 

It  is  a  common  remark,  that  men  talk  most  who 
think  least;  just  as  frogs  cease  their  quacking  when  a 
light  is  brought  to  the  water-side.  mcnter. 

"  THE  EMPTY   CASK  SOUNDS  MOST." 


POLONIUS.  395 

NATIVE  AIE. 

CHILDREN  educated  abroad  return  home  to  a  strange 
country,  not  able  to  mark  the  places  where  they  found 
the  first  bird's  nest,  the  burn  where  they  caught  the  first 
trout,  or  any  of  those  dear  associations  of  childhood 
that  bind  us  to  our  native  soil  by  ties  as  small  and 
numerous  as  those  by  which  the  Lilliputians  bound 
Gulliver  to  the  earth.  Mrs.  Grant. 

HOMO   SUM;   HUMANI    NIHIL  A  ME  ALIENUM  PUTO. 

The  sentence  which,  when  first  spoken  in  the  Roman 
theatre,  made  it  ring  with  applause.  Trite  as  it  is,  we 
can  scarce  come  upon  it  now  without  the  whole  heart 
rising  to  welcome  it. 

No  character,  we  may  affirm,  was  ever  rightly  under- 
stood till  it  had  been  first  regarded  with  a  certain  feel- 
ing, not  of  toleration  only,  but  of  sympathy.  cariyic. 

Lavater  says,  "  He  who  begins  with  severity  in  judg- 
ing of  another  commonly  ends  with  falsehood."  But 
what  did  he  begin  with  f 

"  It  is  only  necessary  to  grow  old,"  said  Goethe,  "  to 
become  more  indulgent.  I  see  no  fault  committed  that 
I  have  not  myself  inclined  to." 


396  POLONIUS. 

POETKY. 

"  MILTON  is  very  fine,  I  dare  say/'  said  the  mathema- 
tician, "but  what  does  he  prove  ? "  What,  indeed,  does 
Poetry  prove  ? 

"  It  doth  raise  and  erect  the  mind,"  says  Bacon,  "  by 
submitting  the  shows  of  things  to  the  desires  of  the 
mind,  whereas  Reason  doth  buckle  and  bow  the  mind 
unto  the  nature  of  things." 

But  Sir  Philip  Sidney  says,  the  poet  shows  the  "  na- 
ture of  things  "  as  much  as  the  reasoner,  though  he  may 
not  "buckle  and  bow  the  mind"  to  it:  "He  doth  not 
only  show  the  way,  but  giveth  so  sweet  a  prospect  into 
the  way  as  will  entice  any  man  to  enter  into  it.  Nay, 
he  doth  as  if  your  journey  should  lie  through  a  fair 
vineyard,  at  the  very  first  give  you  a  cluster  of  grapes, 
that  full  of  that  taste  you  may  long  to  pass  further. 

"  Some  have  thought  the  proper  object  of  Poetry  was, 
to  please;  others  that  it  was,  to  instruct.  Perhaps  we 
are  well  instructed  if  we  are  well  pleased." 

"POETRY  ENRICHES  THE  BLOOD  OF  THE  WORLD." 


VAIN-GLOEY. 


THEY  that  are  glorious  must  needs  be  factious  ;  for 
all  bravery  stands  upon  comparisons.  They  must  needs 
be  violent  to  make  good  their  own  vaunts  ;  neither  can 


POLONIUS.  397 

they  be  secret,  and  therefore  effectual ;  but  according 
to  the  French  proverb, 

BEAUCOUP  DE   BRUIT 

PEU  DE  FRUIT.  Bacon. 

Bacon  may  be  talking  of  the  vain-glory  of  an  Alcibi- 
ades,  troublesome  to  states ;  but  so  it  is  through  all 
societies  of  men,  from  parliaments  to  tea-tables;  for 
"  Vanity  is  of  a  divisive,  not  of  an  uniting,  nature." 


MAY  escape,  but  he  cannot  rest  sure  of  doing  so. 

Epicurus. 
"  RIVEN   BREEKS   SIT   STILL." 


LIBEETY.    WHAT  IS  IT? 
UHE  IS  WISE  WHO   FOLLOWS   THE   WISE." 

LIBERTY  f  The  true  liberty  of  a  man,  you  would  say, 
consisted  in  his  finding  out,  or  being  forced  to  find  out, 
the  right  path,  and  to  walk  thereon.  To  learn,  or  to  be 
taught,  what  work  he  actually  was  able  for :  and  then 
by  permission,  persuasion,  or  even  compulsion,  to  set 


398  POLONI.US. 

about  doing  of  the  same  ?  That  is  his  true  blessedness, 
honour,  liberty,  and  maximum  of  well-being :  if  liberty 
be  not  that,  I,  for  one,  have  small  care  about  liberty. 
You  do  not  allow  a  palpable  madman  to  leap  over  pre- 
cipices :  you  violate  his  liberty,  you  that  are  wise ;  and 
keep  him  in  strait- waistcoats  away  from  the  precipices ! 
Every  stupid,  every  cowardly  and  foolish  man  is  but  a 
less  palpable  madman :  his  true  liberty  were  that  a  wise 
man,  that  any  man,  and  every  wiser  man,  could,  by  brass 
collars,  or  in  whatever  sharper  or  milder  way,  lay  hold 
of  him  when  he  was  going  wrong,  and  order  and  com- 
pel him  to  go  a  little  lighter.  Oh,  if  thou  really  art  my 
Senior,  Seigneur,  my  elder,  presbyter,  or  priest  —  if 
thou  art  in  very  deed  my  wiser  —  may  a  beneficent  in- 
stinct lead  and  impel  thee  to  conquer  me,  to  command 
me  !  If  thou  do  know  better  than  I  what  is  good  and 
right,  I  conjure  thee  in  the  name  of  God,  force  me  to 
do  it ;  were  it  by  never  such  brass  collars,  whips,  and 
handcuffs,  leave  me  not  to  walk  over  precipices !  That 
I  have  been  called  by  all  the  newspapers  a  "  free-man  " 
will  avail  me  little  if  my  pilgrimage  have  ended  in 
death  and  wreck.  Oh  that  the  newspapers  had  called 
me  coward,  slave,  fool,  or  what  it  pleased  their  sweet 
voices  to  name  me,  and  I  had  attained  not  death,  but 
life !  — Liberty  requires  new  definitions. 

Carlyle's  Past  and  Present. 

Plato  taught  the  haughty  Athenians  they  could  only 
be  free  by  liberating  themselves  from  their  own  pas- 


POLONIUS. 


399 


sious :  and  so  Milton  sings  at  the  end  of  Comus>     A 
later  poet,  however,  says  : 

"  Thou  canst  not  choose  but  serve  ;  man's  lot  is  servitude  : 
But  thou  hast  thus  much  choice  —  a  bad  lord,  or  a  good." 

"  There  is  a  service  that  is  perfect  freedom." 


SOCRATIS    PATERNOSTER. 

WHEN  Socrates  and  Phaedrus  have  discoursed  away 
the  noon-day  heat  under  that  plane  tree  by  the  Ilissus, 
they  rise  to  depart  toward  the  city.  But  Socrates 
(pointing  perhaps  to  some  images  of  Pan  and  other 
sylvan  deities)  says  it  is  not  decent  to  leave  their  haunts 
without  praying  to  them.  And  he  prays : — 

O  auspicious  Pan,  and  ye  other  deities  of  this  place, 
—  grant  to  me  to  become  beautiful  inwardly,  and  that 
all  my  outward  goods  may  prosper  my  inner  soul. 
Grant  that  I  may  esteem  wisdom  the  only  riches,  and 
that  I  may  have  so  much  gold  as  temperance  can  hand- 
somely carry. 

Have  we  yet  aught  else  to  pray  for,  Phaedrus  ?  For 
myself  I  seem  to  have  prayed  enough. 

Phcedrtts.  Pray  as  much  for  me  also  ;  for  friends  have 
all  in  common. 

Socrates.  Even  so  be  it.     Let  us  depart. 


400  POLONIUS. 

GIVING  AND  ASKING. 

I  LIKE  him  who  can  ask  boldly  without  impudence ; 
he  has  faith  in  humanity ;  he  has  faith  in  himself.  No  one 
who  is  not  accustomed  to  give  grandly  can  ask  boldly. 

He  who  goes  round  about  in  his  demands,  commonly 
wants  more  than  he  wishes  to  appear  to  want. 

He  who  accepts  crawlingly,  will  give  superciliously. 

The  manner  of  giving  shows  the  character  of  the 
giver  more  than  the  gift  itself.  There  is  a  princely 
manner  of  giving,  and  of  accepting.  Lavater. 

THE  WISE   MOTHER  SAYS   NOT,  "  WILL  YOU  ?  "  BUT    GIVES. 
BIS  DAT   QUI   CITO   DAT. 

Silver  from  the  living 

Is  gold  in  the  giving : 

Gold  from  the  dying 

Is  but  silver  a  flying : 

Gold  and  silver  from  the  dead 

Turn  too  often  into  lead.  Fuller. 


LIFE. 

WE  deliberate,  says  Seneca,  about  the  parcels  of 
Life,  but  not  about  Life  itself ;  and  so  arrive  all  una- 
wares at  its  different  epochs,  and  have  the  trouble  of 
beginning  all  again.  And  so,  finally,  it  is  that  we  do 
not  walk  as  men  confidently  toward  death,  bqt  let  death 
come  suddenly  upon  us. 


POLONIUS.  401 

VENT   AU   VISAGE 

FAIT   UN   HOMME    SAGE. 

When  Hercules  was  taken  up  to  the  consistory  of  the 
Gods,  he  went  up  to  Juno  first  of  all,  and  saluted  her. 

"  How,"  said  J.upiter,  "  do  you  first  seek  your  worst 
enemy  to  do  her  courtesy  ?  " 

"  Yea,"  said  Hercules,  "  her  malice  it  was  made  me  do 
such  deeds  as  have  lifted  me  to  Heaven."  German. 


PKECEDENCY. 

1. 

A  QUESTION  of  precedence  arose  among  the  beasts. 
"Let  Man  be  the  judge,"  said  the  Horse,  "he  is  not  a 
party  concerned."  "  But  has  he  sense  enough,"  said  the 
Mole,  "  to  distinguish  and  appreciate  our  more  hidden 
excellencies  I " 

"  Ay  —  can  you  vouch  for  that  f  "  said  the  Ass.  But 
the  Horse  said  to  them,  "  He  who  distrusts  his  own 
cause  is  most  suspicious  of  his  judge." 

2. 

Man  was  sent  for.  u  By  what  scale,  O  Man,  wilt  thou 
measure  us  ? "  said  the  Lion.  "  By  the  measure  of  your 
usefulness  to  me,"  said  Man. 

"  Nay  then,"  replied  the  Lion,  "  at  that  rate  the  Ass 
is  worthier  than  I.  You  must  leave  us  to  decide  it 
among  ourselves." 


402  POLONIUS. 

3. 

"  There,"  cried  Mole  and  Ass,  "  you  see,  Horse,  the 
Lion  thinks  with  us  !  " 

4. 

But  the  Lion  said,  "  What,  after  all,  js  all  the  dispute 
about  f  What  is  it  to  me  whether  I  am  considered  first 
or  last  ?  Enough  —  I  know  myself."  And  he  strode 
away  into  the  forest.  German. 


IMAGINARY  EVILS. 

I  AM  more  afraid  of  my  friends  making  themselves 
uncomfortable  who  have  only  imaginary  evils  to  in- 
dulge, than  I  am  for  the  peace  of  those  who,  battling 
magnanimously  with  real  inconvenience  and  danger, 
find  a  remedy  in  the  very  force  of  the  exertions  to  which 
their  lot  compels  them.  IF.  seott. 

A  gentleman  of  large  fortune,  while  we  were  seri- 
ously conversing,  ordered  a  servant  to  throw  some 
coals  on  the  fire.  A  puff  of  smoke  came  out.  He 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  cried  out,  "  O 
Mr.  Wesley,  these  are  the  crosses  I  meet  with  every 
day!" 

Surely  these  crosses  would  not  have  fretted  him  so 
much  if  he  had  had  only  fifty  pounds  a  year  instead  of 

five  thousand.  J0jln  Wesley. 


POLONIUS.  403 

"  On  n'est  point  malheureux,"  wrote  Horace  Walpole 
to  Madame  Du  Deffand,  "  quand  on  a  loisir  de  s'en- 
jiiiyer." 


ACTION  AND  ASPIRATION. 

"NEVER  SIGH,  BUT  SEND." 
Nihil  lacrima  citius  arescit.       ctcero. 

THE  danger  of  a  polite  and  elegant  education  is,  that 
it  separates  feeling  and  acting ;  it  teaches  us  to  think, 
speak,  and  be  affected  aright,  without  forcing  us  to  do 
what  is  right. 

I  will  take  an  illustration  of  this  from  the  effect  pro- 
duced on  the  mind  by  reading  what  is  commonly  called 
a  Romance  or  Novel.  Such  works  contain  many  good 
sentiments;  characters  too  are  introduced,  virtuous, 
noble,  noble,  patient  under  sufferings,  and  triumphing 
at  last  over  misfortune.  The  great  truths  of  religion 
are  upheld,  we  will  suppose,  and  enforced;  and  our 
affections  excited  and  interested  in  what  is  good  and 
true.  But  it  is  all  a  fiction  ;  it  does  not  exist  out  of  a 
book,  which  contains  the  beginning  and  end  of  it.  We 
hare  nothing  to  do;  we  read,  are  affected,  softened,  or 
roused ;  and  that  is  all ;  we  cool  again  :  nothing  comes 
of  it. 

Now  observe  the  effect  of  all  this.  God  has  made  us 
feel  in  order  that  we  may  go  on  to  act  in  consequence 


404  POLONIUS. 

of  feeling.  If,  then,  we  allow  our  feelings  to  be  excited 
without  acting  upon  them,  we  do  mischief  to  the  moral 
system  within  us ;  just  as  we  might  spoil  a  watch,  or 
other  piece  of  mechanism,  by  playing  with  the  wheels 
of  it ;  we  weaken  the  springs,  and  they  cease  to  act 
truly. 

Accordingly,  when  we  have  got  into  the  habit  of 
amusing  ourselves  with  these  works  of  fiction,  we  come 
at  length  to  feel  the  excitement  without  the  slightest 
thought  or  tendency  to  act  upon  it.  And  since  it  is 
very  difficult  to  begin  any  duty  without  some  emotion 
or  other,  (that  is,  on  mere  principles  of  dry  reasoning,) 
a  grave  question  arises,  how,  after  destroying  the  con- 
nexion between  feeling  and  acting,  how  shall  we  get  our- 
selves to  act  when  circumstances  make  it  our  duty  to  do 
so  ?  For  instance,  we  will  say  we  have  read  again  and 
again  of  the  heroism  of  facing  danger,  and  we  have 
glowed  with  the  thought  of  its  nobleness.  We  have  felt 
how  great  it  is  to  bear  pain,  and  to  submit  to  indignities, 
rather  than  wound  our  conscience ;  and  all  this  again 
and  again,  when  we  had  no  opportunity  of  carrying  our 
good  feelings  into  practice.  Now  suppose,  at  length, 
we  actually  come  to  trial,  and,  let  us  say,  our  feelings 
become  roused,  as  often  before,  at  the  thought  of  boldly 
resisting  temptations  to  cowardice;  shall  we  therefore 
do  our  duty,  quitting  ourselves  like  men  ?  rather,  we 
are  likely  to  talk  loudly,  and  then  run  from  the  danger. 
—Why  ?  rather  let  us  ask,  why  not  ?  what  is  to  keep  us 
from  yielding!  Because  we./VW  aright?  Nay,  we  have 


J^ 

~~^$ 


POLONIUS.  405 

again  and  again  felt  aright,  and  thought  aright,  with- 
out accustoming  ourselves  to  act  aright ;  and  though 
there  was  an  original  connexion  in  our  minds  between 
feeling  and  acting,  there  is  none  now ;  the  wires  within 

us,  as  they  may  be  called,  are  loosened  and  powerless. 

Newman. 

HELL  IS  PAVED  WITH   GOOD  INTENTIONS. 

" '  Ah,  thank  'ee,  neighbour,'  said  a  perspiring  sheep- 
driver  the  other  day,  to  one  who  hooted  away  his  flock 
from  going  down  a  wrong  road, — '  Thank  'ee  —  a  little 
help  is  worth  a  deal  o'  pity  ! ' ' 


WAR. 

WAR  begets  Poverty  —  Poverty,  Peace  — 
Peace  begets  Riches  — •  Fate  will  not  cease  — 
Riches  beget  Pride  —  Pride  is  War's  ground  — 
War  begets  Poverty  —  and  so  the  world  goes  round. 

Old  Saw. 

How  all  Europe  is  but  like  a  set  of  parishes  of  the 
same  country;  participant  of  the  self-same  influences 
ever  since  the  Crusades,  and  earlier :  and  these  glorious 
wars  of  ours  are  but  like  parish  brawls,  which  begin  in 
mutual  ignorance,  intoxication,  and  boasting  speech; 
which  end  in  broken  windows,  damage,  waste,  and 
bloody  noses ;  and  which  one  hopes  the  general  good 
sense  is  now  in  the  way  towards  putting  down  in  some 
measure.  carii/ie. 


406  POLONIUS. 

"  Yet  here,  as  elsewhere,  not  absurdly  does  l  Metaphy- 
sic  call  for  aid  on  Sense.'  The  physical  science  of  war 
may  do  more  to  abolish  war  than  all  our  good  and 
growing  sense  of  its  folly,  wickedness,  and  extreme  dis- 
comfort. For  what  State  would  be  at  the  expense  of 
drilling  and  feeding  Dumdrudges  to  be  annihilated  by 
the  first  discharge  of  the  COMING  GUN  ? " 


LOVE 

WITHOUT  END  HATH  NO   END. 

No  wheedler  loves. 

II  y  a  dans  la  jalousie  plus  d'amour  propre  que 
d'amour. 

II  n'y  a  point  de  deguisement  qui  puisse  long  temps 
cacher  1'arnour  ou  il  est,  ni  le  feindre  on  il  n'est  pas. 

Rochefoucauld. 

"LOVE  ASKS  FAITH,  AND  FAITH  FIRMNESS." 


Is  like  our  money :  when  we  change  a  guinea,  the 
shillings  escape  as  things  of  small  account :  when  we 
break  a  day  by  idleness  in  the  morning,  the  rest  of  the 
hours  lose  their  importance  in  our  eyes.  sir  w.  Scott. 


POLONIUS.  407 

EXPENSE. 

COMMONLY  it  is  less  dishonourable  to  abridge  petty 
charges  than  to  stoop  to  petty  gettings.  A  man.  ought 
warily  to  begin  charges,  which  once  begun  will  con- 
tinue ;  but  in  matters  that  return  not,  he  may  be  more 
magnificent.  Bacon. 

Fuller  says,  "  Occasional  entertainment  of  men  greater 
than  thyself  is  better  than  solemn  inviting  them ; "  and 
a  proverb  bids  us  beware  of  taking  for  servant  one  who 
has  waited  on  our  betters.  In  both  cases  we  shall  have 
to  spend  beyond  our  means,  and  be  despised  to  boot. 


TEUTH  AND  JUSTICE 


ARE  all  one:   for  Truth  is  but  Justice  in  our  know- 
ledge ;  and  Justice  is  but  Truth  in  our  practice. 


Milton. 


RICHES. 

THESE  times  strike  monied  worldlings  with  dismay; 
Ev'n  rich   men,  brave  by  nature,  taint  the  air 
With  words  of  apprehension  and  despair; 

While  tens  of  thousands  looking  on  the  fray, 

Men  unto  whom  sufficient  for  the  day, 

And  minds  not  stinted  or  untill'd  are  given, 
Sound  healthy  children  of   the  God  of  heaven, 


408  POLONIUS. 

Are  cheerful  as  the  rising  sun  in  May. 

What  do  we  gather  hence  but  firmer  faith 
That  every  gift  of  nobler  origin 

Is  breathed  upon  with  Hope's  perpetual  breath ; 
That  Virtue,  and  the  faculties  within, 
Are  vital;  and  that  Riches  are  akin 

To  fear,  to  change,  to  cowardice,  and  death? 

Wordsworth. 

"  Ah  !  Davy,"  said  Johnson  to  Garrick,  who  was 
showing  off  his  fine  grounds  at  Twickenham,  "  it  is 
these  things  that  make  us  fear  to  die." 


CHOICE  OF  A  CALLING. 

IN  all  things,  to  serve  from  the  lowest  station  up- 
wards is  necessary.  To  restrict  yourself  to  a  Trade  is 
best.  For  the  narrow  mind,  whatever  he  attempts  is 
still  a  Trade ;  for  the  higher,  an  Art ;  and  the  highest, 
in  doing  one  thing,  does  all ;  or,  to  speak  less  paradoxi- 
cally, in  the  one  thing  which  he  does  rightly,  he  sees 
the  likeness  of  all  that  is  done  rightly.  Goethe. 

"  ANY  EOAD  LEADS  TO  THE  END  OF  THE  WORLD." 

Whatever  a  young  man  at  first  applies  to,  is  com- 
monly his  delight  afterwards.  Hartley. 

"  Whatever  a  man  delights  in  he  will  do  best :  and 
that  he  had  best  do." 


POLONIUS.  409 

"  Themistocles  said  he  could  not  fiddle,  but  he  could 
rule  a  city.  If  a  man  can  rule  a  city  well,  let  him ; 
but  it  is  better  to  play  the  fiddle  well  than  to  rule  a 
city  ill." 


ENVY. 


LA  plus  veritable  marque  d'etre  ne  avec  de  grandes 
qualites,  c'est  d'etre  ne  sans  Envie. 


Genius  may  coexist  with  idleness,  wildness,  folly,  and 
even  crime;  but  not  long,  believe  me,  with  selfishness, 
and  the  indulgence  of  an  envious  disposition.  Envy  is 
vtaxtaTO?  xac  SixatdtaTO?  6soc  —  it  dwarfs  and  withers  its 

Worshippers.  Coleridge. 

Therefore  when  you  are  next  sitting  down  to  your 
epic  or  your  tragedy,  pause,  and  look  within,  and  if  you 
recognise  there  any  grudge  against  A,  so  praised  in  the 
Quarterly,  or  B.  so  feted  in  America,  you  may,  if  you 
please,  save  yourself  a  deal  of  laborious  composition. 

A  fine  brazen  statue  wras  accidentally  reduced  by  fire 
into  a  shapeless  mass.  This  was  re-cast  by  another  art- 
ist into  another  statue,  quite  different  from  the  former, 
but  as  beautiful. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Envy;  "  but  he  could  not  have  turned 
out  even  this  middling  piece  of  work,  had  not  the  stuff 
of  the  old  statue  run  of  itself  into  shape."  German. 


"J 


410  POLONIUS. 

ART  DIPLOMATIC. 

THE  sure  way  to  make  a  foolish  Ambassador  is  to 
bring  him  up  to  it.  What  can  an  Englishman  abroad 
really  want  but  an  honest  and  bold  heart,  a  love  for  his 
country,  and  the  Ten  Commandments?  Your  art 
diplomatic  is  stuff  —  no  truly  great  man  would  nego- 
tiate upon  such  shallow  principles.  Coleridge. 

Certainly  the  ablest  men  that  ever  were,  have  had 
an  openness  and  frankness  of  dealing,  and  a  name  of 
urbanity  and  veracity.  Bacon. 

How  often  (says  the  Tatler)  I  have  wished,  for  the 
good  of  the  nation,  that  several  good  Politicians  could 
take  any  pleasure  in  feeding  ducks.  I  look  upon  an 
able  statesman  out  of  business  like  a  huge  whale  that 
will  endeavour  to  overturn  the  ship  unless  he  has  an 
empty  cask  to  play  with. 


SICKNESS. 

QUAND  on  se  porte  bien,  on  ne  comprend  pas  com- 
ment on  pourroit  faire  si  on  etoit  malade :  et  quand  on 
1'est,  on  prend  medecine  gaimeiit :  le  mal  y  resout. 
On  n'a  plus  les  passions  et  les  desirs  des  divertisse- 
ments et  des  promenades  que  la  sante  donnoit,  et  qui 
sont  incompatibles  avec  les  necessites  de  la  maladie. 
La  nature  donne  alors  des  passions  et  des  desirs  con- 


POLONIUS.  411 

formes  a  Petat  present.  Ce  ne  sont  que  les  craintes 
que  nous  nous  donnons  nous-memes,  et  lion  pas  la 
nature,  qui  nous  troublent ;  parce  qu'elles  joignent  a 
1'etat  ou  nous  sommes  les  passions  de  Petat  ou  nous 
ne  sommes  pas.  Pacsai. 

Sir  C.  Bell  records  the  general  cheerfulness  of  the 
sick  and  dying  at  hospitals. 

GOD  TEMPERS  THE  WIND  TO  THE  SHORN  LAMB. 


TEACHING. 

I  HOLD  that  a  man  is  only  fit  to  teach  so  long  as  he  is 
himself  learning  daily.  If  the  mind  once  becomes  stag- 
nant, it  can  give  no  fresh  draught  to  another  mind ;  it 
is  drinking  out  of  a  pond  instead  of  from  a  spring. 

A  schoolmaster's  intercourse  is  with  the  young,  the 
strong,  and  the  happy ;  and  he  cannot  get  on  with  them 
unless  in  animal  spirits  he  can  sympathise  with  them, 

and  show  that  his  thoughtf ulness  is  not  connected  with 

i 
selfishness  and  weakness.  Arnold. 

You  may  put  poison,  if  you  please,  in  an  earthen 
pitcher,  said  Socrates,  and  the  pitcher  be  washed  after, 
and  none  the  worse.  But  you  can  take  nothing  into 
the  soul  that  does  not  indelibly  infect  it  whether  for 
good  or  for  evil. 


412  POLONIUS. 

TOEY. 

TACITUS  wrote,  (says  Luther,)  that  by  the  ancient 
Germans  it  was  held  no  shame  at  all  to  drink  and  swill 
four  and  twenty  hours  together.  A  gentleman  of  the 
court  asked,  "  How  long  ago  it  was  since  Tacitus  wrote 
this."  He  was  answered,  "Almost  1500  years."  "Where- 
upon the  gentleman  said,  "  Forasmuch  as  drunkenness 
is  so  ancient  a  custom,  let  us  not  abolish  it." 

An  old  ruinous  tower  which  had  harboured  innumer- 
able jackdaws,  sparrows,  and  bats,  was  at  length  re- 
paired. "When  the  masons  left  it,  the  jackdaws,  spar- 
rows, and  bats  came  back  in  search  of  their  old  dwellings. 
But  these  were  all  filled  up.  "  Of  what  use  now  is  this 
great  building  ? "  said  they,  "  come  let  us  forsake  this 

USeleSS  Stone-heap."  German. 


HOW    TO    WRITE   A   GOOD    BOOK. 
"HE   THAT   BURNS  MOST   SHINES  MOST." 

A  LOVING  heart  is  the  beginning  of  all  knowledge. 
This  it  is  that  opens  the  whole  mind,  quickens  every 
faculty  of  the  intellect  to  do  its  work  —  that  of  know- 
ing; and  therefrom,  by  sure  consequence,  of  vividly 
uttering  forth.  Other  secret  for  being  "graphic"  is 
there  none,  worth  having ;  but  this  is  an  all-sufficient  one. 
See,  for  example,  what  a  small  Boswell  can  do  !  Here- 


POLONIUS.  413 

by,  indeed,  is  the  whole  man  made  a  living  mirror, 
wherein  the  wonders  of  this  ever-wonderful  uni- 
verse are  in  their  true  light  (which  is  ever  a  magical, 
miraculous  one)  represented  and  reflected  back  on  us. 
It  has  been  said,  "  the  heart  sees  further  than  the 
head."  But  indeed  without  the  seeing  heart,  there  is 
no  true  seeing  for  the  head  so  much  as  possible ;  all 
is  mere  oversight,  hallucination,  and  vain  superficial 
phaiitasmagories,  which  can  permanently  profit  no  one. 
Here  too  may  we  not  pause  for  an  instant,  and  make  a 
practical  reflection  ?  Considering  the  multitude  of 
mortals  that  handle  the  pen  in  these  days,  and  can 
mostly  spell  and  write  without  glaring  violations  of 
grammar  ;  the  question  naturally  arises,  How  is  it, 
then,  that  no  work  proceeds  from  them  bearing  any 
stamp  of  authenticity  and  permanence,  of  worth  for 
more  than  one  day?  Ship-loads  of  fashionable  novels, 
sentimental  rhymes,  tragedies,  farces,  diaries  of  travel, 
tales  by  flood  and  field,  are  swallowed  monthly  into  the 
bottomless  pool ;  still  does  the  press  boil :  innumera- 
ble paper-makers,  compositors,  printers'  devils,  book- 
binders, and  hawkers  grown  hoarse  with  loud  proclaim- 
ing, rest  not  from  their  labour ;  and  still,  in  torrents, 
rushes  on  the  great  array  of  publications,  unpausing, 
to  their  final  home  ;  and  still  Oblivion,  like  the  grave, 
cries.  Give  !  give  !  How  is  it  that  of  all  these  countless 
multitudes,  no  one  can  attain  to  the  smallest  mark  of 
excellence,  or  produce  aught  that  shall  endure  longer 
than  the  "  snow-flake  on  the  river,"  or  the  foam  of 


>NN 


414  POLONIUS. 

penny-beer  ?  We  answer,  because  they  are  foam : 
because  there  is  no  reality  in  them.  These  three  thou- 
sand men,  women,  and  children,  that  make  up  the 
army  of  British  authors,  do  not,  if  we  will  consider 
it,  see  any  thing  whatever ;  consequently  have  nothing 
that  they  can  record  and  utter,  only  more  or  fewer 
things  that  they  can  plausibly  pretend  to  record.  The 
universe,  of  man  and  nature,  is  still  quite  shut  up  from 
them ;  the  "open  secret"  still  utterly  a  secret;  because 
no  sympathy  with  man  or  nature,  no  love  and  free 
simplicity  of  heart,  has  yet  unfolded  the  same.  Nothing 
but  a  pitiful  image  of  their  own  pitiful  self,  with  its 
vanities,  and  grudgings,  and  ravenous  hunger  of  all 
kinds,  hangs  for  ever  painted  in  the  retina  of  these  un- 
fortunate persons  ;  so  that  the  starry  all,  with  whatso- 
ever it  embraces,  does  but  appear  as  some  expanded 
magic-lantern  shadow  of  that  same  image,  and  natu- 
rally looks  pitiful  enough. 

It  is  in  vain  for  these  persons  to  allege  that  they  are 
naturally  without  gift,  naturally  stupid  and  sightless, 
and  so  can  attain  to  no  knowledge  of  any  thing ;  there- 
fore, in  writing  of  any  thing,  must  needs  write  false- 
hoods of  it,  there  being  in  it  no  truth  for  them.  Not 
so,  good  friends.  The  stupidest  of  you  has  a  certain 
faculty;  were  it  but  that  of  articulate  speech,  (say  in 
the  Scottish,  the  Irish,  the  cockney  dialect,  or  even  in 
"  governess-English,")  and  of  physically  discerning 
what  lies  under  your  nose.  The  stupidest  of  you  would 
perhaps  grudge  to  be  compared  in  faculty  with  James 


POLONIUS.  415 

Boswell ;  yet  see  what  he  has  produced !  You  do  not 
use  your  faculty  honestly :  your  heart  is  shut  up —  full 
of  greediness,  malice,  discontent ;  so  your  intellectual 
sense  cannot  lie  open.  It  is  in  vain  also  to  urge  that 
James  Boswell  had  opportunities,  saw  great  men  and 
great  things,  such  as  you  can  never  hope  to  look  on. 
What  make  ye  of  Parson  White  of  Selborne  ?  He  had 
not  only  no  great  men  to  look  on,  but  not  even  men, 
merely  sparrows  and  cockchafers;  yet  has  he  left  us 
a  biography  of  these,  which,  under  its  title,  "  Natural 
History  of  Selborne,"  still  remains  valuable  to  us ; 
which  has  copied  a  little  sentence  or  two  faithfully  from 
the  inspired  volume  of  nature,  and  so  is  in  itself  not 
without  inspiration.  Go  ye  and  do  likewise.  Sweep 
away  utterly  -all  frothiness  and  falsehood  from  your 
heart :  struggle  unweariedly  to  acquire,  what  is  possi- 
ble for  every  God-created  man,  a  free,  open,  humble 
soul :  speak  not  at  all  in  any  wise  till  you  have  something 
to  speak :  care  not  for  the  reward  of  your  speaking, 
but  simply,  and  with  undivided  mind,  for  the  truth 
of  your  speaking ;  then  be  placed  in  what  section  of 
space  and  time  soever,  do  but  open  your  eyes  and 
they  shall  actually  see,  and  bring  you  real  knowledge, 
wondrous,  worthy  of  belief ;  and,  instead  of  our  Bos- 
well and  our  White,  the  world  will  rejoice  in  a  thou- 
sand—  stationed  on  their  thousand  several  watch- 
towers,  to  instruct  us,  by  indubitable  documents,  of 
whatsoever  in  our  so  stupendous  world  comes  to  light 

and  is  !  Garb/It: 


416  POLONIUS. 

"And  yet,"  says  he  again,  "  What  of  Books  f  Hast 
thoii  not  already  a  Bible  to  write,  and  publish  in  print, 
that  is  eternal ;  namely, 

A   LIFE    TO   LEAD." 


DATE    AND    DABITUE. 

THERE  is  in  Austria  (said  Luther)  a  Monastery,  which 
was,  in  former  times,  very  rich,  and  continued  rich  so 
long  as  it  gave  freely  to  the  poor ;  but  when  it  gave 
over  that,  then  it  became  poor  itself,  and  so  remains  to 
this  day.  Not  long  since,  a  poor  man  knocked  at  the 
gate  and  begged  alms  for  God's  sake  :  the  porter  said 
they  were  themselves  too  poor  to  give.  "And  do  you 
know  why  ? "  said  the  other :  "  I  will  tell  you.  You  had 
formerly  in  this  monastery  two  Brethren,  one  named 
DATE,  and  the  other  DABITUR.  DATE  you  thrust  out ; 
and  DABITUR  went  away  of  himself  soon  after." 


FvcbQi   - 

THIS  famous  "  Know  thyself,"  it  does  but  say, 
"  Know  thine  own  business,"  in  another  way. 

Menander. 

u  Hence  too,"  says  a  testy  modern,  "  the  folly  of  that 
impossible  precept,  i  Know  thyself/  till  it  get  translated 


POLONIUS. 


417 


into  this  more  possible  one,  '  Know  what  thou  canst 
work  at.' " 

"  It  is  true,"  says  Harrington,  "  that  men  are  no  fit 
judges  of  themselves,  because  commonly  they  are  par- 
tial in  their  own  cause ;  yet  it  is  as  true,  that  he  that 
will  dispose  himself  to  judge  indifferently  of  himself, 
can  do  it  better  than  anybody  else,  because  a  man  can 
see  further  into  his  own  mind  and  heart  than  any  one 
else  can." 

"  He,"  says  Fuller,  "  who  will  not  freely  and  sadly 
confess  that  he  is  much  a  fool,  is  all  a  fool." 

Argenson's  friend  read  a  book  many  times  over,  and 
complained  of  the  author's  repeating  himself  a  great 

deal. 

Kettle  called  Pot  — 
You  know  what. 

EAGLES  NO   FLY-CATCHERS. 

The  slightness  we  see  in  Gainsborough's  works  can- 
not-always  be  imputed  to  negligence.  However  they 
may  appear  to  superficial  observers,  painters  know  very 
well  that  a  steady  attention  to  the  general  effect  takes 
up  more  time,  and  is  much  more  laborious  to  the  mind, 
than  any  mode  of  high-finishing  or  smoothness,  with- 
out SUCh  attention.  Sir  J.  Reynolds. 

Sir  Joshua  said,  u  though  Johnson  did  not  write  his 
Discourses,  the  general  principles  he  laid  down  in  morals 
and  literature  served  as  the  ground- work  of  much  pro- 
pounded in  them." 


418  POLONIUS. 

By  way  of  requital,  Opie  used  to  relate  how  a  clerical 
friend  of  his  preached  Sir  Joshua's  Discourses  from  the 
pulpit,  only  changing  the  terms  of  art  to  those  of 
morals. 

This  might  easily  be  done  with  the  sentence  quoted 
above.  The  "  superficial  observers  "  remain  as  they 
are,  admiring  the  laborious  finish  of  the  model-man, 
whose  every  word  is  weighed  and  smile  measured  — 
but  scandalised  at  him,  who,  having  laid  down  a  large 
and  noble  design  of  life,  is  careless  of  the  petty  detail 
of  behaviour  —  whose  heart  may  run  wild  though  it 
never  goes  astray. 


SUPERSTITION. 

SUPERSTITION  is  the  religion  of  feeble  minds ;  and 
they  must  be  tolerated  in  an  intermixture  of  it,  in  some 
trifling  or  some  enthusiastic  shape  or  other,  else  you 
will  deprive  weak  minds  of  a  resource  found  necessary 
to  the  strongest.  Burke. 

They  that  are  against  superstition  oftentimes  run 
into  it  of  the  wrong  side.  If  I  will  wear  all  colours  but 
black,  then  I  am  superstitious  in  not  wearing  black. 

Selden. 

"The  guillotine  was  as  much  a  superstition  as  the 
aristocracy  and  priestcraft  it  was  set  up  to  exter- 
minate." 


POLONIUS.  419 

MODESTY, 

BEING  the  case  of  chastity,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  when 
the  case  is  broken,  the  jewel  is  lost.  Fuller. 

On  pent  trouver  des  femmes  qui  n'ont  jamais  eu  de 
galanterie :  mais  il  est  rare  de  trouver  qui  n'en  aient 
jamais  eu  q'une.  Rochefoucauld. 

"  C'EST  LE   PREMIER  PAS   QUI   COUTE." 


NATURE  AND  HABIT. 

LA  vertu  d'un  homme  ne  doit  pas  se  mesurer  par  ses 
efforts,  mais  par  ce  qu'il  fait  d'ordiuaire.  Pascal. 

All  men  are  better  than  their  ebullitions  of  evil,  but 
also  worse  than  their  ebullitions  of  good.  Richter. 

Nature  is  often  hidden  —  sometimes  overcome  —  sel- 
dom extinguished.  Force  maketh  nature  more  violent 
in  the  return ;  doctrine  and  discourse  maketh  nature 
less  importune  ;  but  custom  only  doth  alter  and  subdue 
nature.  Bacon. 

"  Let  him  who  would  know  how  far  he  has  changed 
the  old  Adam,  consider  his  Dreams." 

"  HE  THAT  COMES  OF  A  HEN  MUST  SCRAPE." 


420  POLONIUS. 

EVERY  MAN  JUDGES   FROM   HIMSELF. 

"We  measure  the  excellency  of  other  men  by  some 
excellency  we  conceive  to  be  in  ourselves.  Nash,  a 
poet,  poor  enough,  (as  poets  used  to  be,)  seeing  an 
alderman  with  a  gold  chain  upon  his  great  horse,  by 
way  of  scorn  said  to  one  of  his  companions,  "  Do  you 
see  yon  fellow  —  how  goodly,  how  big  he  looks  !  — 
why,  that  fellow  cannot  make  a  blank  verse." 

Nay,  we  measure  the  goodness  of  God  from  ourselves : 
we  measure  his  goodness,  his  justice,  his  wisdom,  by 
something  we  call  just,  good,  wise  in  ourselves.  And 
in  so  doing,  we  judge  proportionately  to  the  country 
fellow  in  the  play ;  who  said,  if  he  were  a  king,  he 
would  live  like  a  lord,  and  have  pease  and  bacon  every 
day,  and  a  whip  that  cried  Slash.  seiden. 

So  Warburton  says,  the  Bigot  reverses  the  order  of 
creation,  and  makes  God  in  man's  image  ;  choosing  the 
very  ugliest  pattern  to  model  from  —  namely,  himself. 


SELF-LOVE. 

IT  is  the  nature  of  self -lovers  as  they  will  set  a  house 
on  fire  and  it  were  but  to  roast  their  eggs.  Wisdom  for 
a  man's  self  is  in  many  branches  thereof  a  depraved 
thing.  It  is  the  wisdom  of  rats,  that  will  be  sure  to 
leave  a  house  somewhat  before  it  fall.  Bacon. 


POLONIUS. 


421 


"  Enlighten  self-interest,"  cries  the  philosopher,  "  do 
but  sufficiently  enlighten  it !  " —  We  ourselves  have 
seen  enlightened  self-interests  ere  now ;  and  truly,  for 
the  most  part,  their  light  was  only  as  that  of  a  horn- 
lantern  ;  sufficient  to  guide  the  bearer  himself  out  of 
various  puddles —  but  to  us  and  the  world  of  compara- 
tively small  advantage.  And  figure  the  human  species 
like  an  endless  host  seeking  its  way  onwards  through 
undiscovered  Time,  in  black  darkness,  save  that  each  had 
his  horn-lantern,  and  the  vanguard  some  few  of  glass. 

Carlyle. 

IT  IS  A  POOR   CENTRE   OF   A  MAN'S   ACTIONS  —  HIMSELF. 

Bacon. 


PEEJUDICES. 

"No  wise  man  can  have  a  contempt  for  the  prejudices 
of  others  ;  and  he  should  stand  in  a  certain  awe  of  his 
own,  as  if  they  were  aged  instructors.  They  may  in  the 
end  prove  wiser  than  he." 

Many  of  our  men  of  speculation,  instead  of  explod- 
ing general  prejudices,  employ  their  sagacity  to  dis- 
cover the  latent  wisdom  which  prevails  in  them.  If 
they  find  what  they  seek,  and  they  seldom  fail,  they 
think  it  more  wise  to  continue  the  prejudice,  with  the 
reason  involved,  than  to  cast  away  the  coat  of  prejudice 
and  leave  the  naked  reason ;  because  prejudice,  with 
its  reason,  has  a  motive  to  give  action  to  that  reason. 


422  POLONIUS. 

and  an  affection  which  will  give  it  permanence.  Preju- 
dice is  of  ready  application  in  the  emergency :  it  pre- 
viously engages  the  mind  in  a  steady  course  of  wisdom 
and  virtue,  and  does  not  leave  the  man  hesitating  in  the 
moment  of  decision,  sceptical,  puzzled,  and  unresolved. 
Prejudice  renders  a  man's  virtue  his  habit,  and  not  a 
series  of  unconnected  acts.  Burke. 


MUSIC. 

"  MUCH  music  marreth  men's  manners,"  said  Galen. 
Although  some  men  will  say  that  it  doth  not  so,  but 
rather  recreateth  and  maketh  quick  a  man's  mind ;  yet 
methinks,  by  reason,  it  doth  as  honey  doth  to  a  man's 
stomach,  which  at  first  receiveth  it  well,  but  afterward 
it  maketh  it  unfit  to  abide  any  strong  nourishing  meat. 
And  even  so  in  a  manner  these  instruments  make  a 
man's  wit  so  soft  and  smooth,  so  tender  and  quaisy, 
that  they  be  less  able  to  brook  strong  and  rough  study. 
Wits  be  not  sharpened,  but  rather  made  blunt,  with 
such  soft  sweetness,  even  as  good  edges  be  blunted 
which  men  whet  upon  soft  chalk-stones.  it.  Aseham. 

Plato  allowed  but  of  two  kinds  of  music  in  his  re- 
public ;  the  Martial,  and  the  Sedate.  He  forbade  the 
luxurious,  the  doleful,  the  sentimental.  And  Aris- 
tophanes complains  of  the  new  intricate  divisions  that 
were  in  his  day  superseding  the  simple  plain-song  of 
more  heroic  times. 


IP       •   •      - 

POLONIUS.  423 

One  may  conceive  that  Handel  is  wholesomer  for  a 
people  than  Bellini. 


GENIUS. 

THE  French  were  distressed  that  Dumont  claimed  to 
have  supplied  their  Mirabeau  with  materials  for  his 
eloquence.  "  Good  people,"  said  Goethe,  "  as  if  their 
Hercules,  or  any  Hercules,  must  not  be  well  fed  —  as  if 
the  Colossus  must  not  be  made  of  parts.  What  is  Gen- 
ius but  the  faculty  of  seizing  things  from  right  and  left 
— here  a  bit  of  marble,  there  a  bit  of  brass  —  and 
breathing  life  into  them  ? " 

"  If  children,"  he  says  elsewhere,  "  grew  up  according 
to  early  indications,  we  should  have  nothing  but  Gen- 
iuses :  but  growth  is  not  merely  development ;  the  vari- 
ous organic  systems  that  constitute  one  man,  spring 
from  one  another,  follow  each  other,  change  into  each 
other,  supplant  each  other,  and  even  consume  each 
other;  so  that  after  a  time,  scarce  a  trace  is  left  of 
many  aptitudes  and  abilities." 


FORMS  OP  BEHAVIOUR. 


To  attain  to  good  Forms  it  almost  sufficeth  not  to 
despise  them  :  for  so  shall  a  man  observe  them  in  others 
—  and  let  him  trust  himself  with  the  rest.  For  if  he 


424  POLONIUS. 

labour  too  much  to  express  them  lie  shall  lose  their 
grace ;  which  is,  to  be  natural  and  unaffected. 

Some  men's  behaviour  is  like  a  verse  wherein  every 
syllable  is  weighed.  How  can  a  man  comprehend  great 
matters  that  breaketh  his  mind  too  much  to  small 
observation  ? 

The  sum  of  behaviour  is  —  to  retain  a  man's  own 
dignity  without  intruding  upon  that  of  others.  Bacon. 


DISPUTES. 

"  SOME  have  wondered  that  disputes  about  opinions 
should  so  often  end  in  personalities :  but  the  fact  is,  that 
such  disputes  begin  with  personalities  ;  for  our  opinions 
are  a  part  of  ourselves." 

Besides,  "  after  the  first  contradiction  it  is  ourselves, 
and  not  the  thing,  we  maintain." 


WHAT  IS  A  MAN'S  RELIGION? 

NOT  the  church  creed  which  he  professes,  the  articles 
of  faith  which  he  will  sign,  and  in  words  or  deeds  other- 
wise assert ;  not  this  wholly  ;  in  many  cases  not  this  at 
all.  We  see  men  of  all  kinds  of  professed  creeds  attain 
to  almost  all  degrees  of  worth  or  worthlessness  under 
each  or  any  of  them.  This  is  not  what  I  call  religion, 


POLONIUS.  425 

this  profession  and  assertion,  which  is  often  only  a  pro- 
fession and  assertion  from  the  outworks  of  man,  from 
the  mere  argumentative  region  of  him,  if  even  so  deep 
as  that.  But  the  thing  a  man  does  practically  believe, 
(and  this  is  often  enough  without  asserting  it  to  himself, 
much  less  to  others,)  the  thing  a  man  does  practically 
lay  to  heart,  and  know  for  certain  concerning  his  vital 
relations  to  this  mysterious  universe,  and  his  duty  and 
destiny  there  —  that  is  in  all  cases  the  primary  thing 
for  him,  and  creatively  determines  all  the  rest.  That  is 
his  religion ;  or,  it  may  be,  his  mere  scepticism  and  no 
religion. 


FAITH  AND  HOPE. 

JUST  before  Socrates  drinks  the  poison,  he  relates  to 
his  friends  the  famous  Mythus  of  Tartarus  and  Elysium 
—  the  final  destination  of  the  soul  after  death  according 
to  its  deeds  in  the  life.  A  Mythus,  if  not  exact  in  detail, 
he  says,  yet  true  in  the  main ;  and  while  men  cannot 
get  at  TRUTH  itself,  they  are  bound  to  seize  upon  the 
MOST  TRUE,  and  on  that,  as  011  a  raft,  float  over  the 
dangerous  sea  of  life. 

"  If  a  man  have  not  Faith,  he  has  surely  Hope  :  and 
he  is  bound  to  act  on  his  highest  Hope  as  on  a  certainty. 
Whence  does  that  Hope  spring  ?  And  he  may  well  em- 
body it  in  any  innocent  form  of  public  Faith,  which,  if  not 
wholly  to  his  mind,  is  yet  a  sufficient  symbol  of  what 


426  POLONIUS. 

he  desires,  and  at  least  mixes  him  up  in  wholesome 
communion  with  his  fellow-men." 

When  at  the  last  hour,  says  Richter,  all  other  hopes 
and  fears  die  within  us,  and  knowledge  and  confidence 
vanish  away,  Religion  alone  survives  and  blossoms  as 
the  night  of  death  closes  round. 


A 
~^ 


STUDIES. 

STUDIES  serve  for  delight,  for  ornament,  and  for 
ability.  Their  chief  use  for  delight  is  in  privateness 
and  retiring;  for  ornament,  is  in  discourse;  and  for 
ability,  is  in  the  judgment  and  disposition  of  business. 
For  expert  men  can  execute,  and  perhaps  judge  of  par- 
ticulars one  by  one  ;  but  the  general  counsels,  and  the 
plots  and  marshallings  of  affairs,  come  best  from  those 
that  are  learned.  To  spend  too  much  time  in  studies,  is 
sloth :  to  use  them  too  much  for  ornament,  is  affecta- 
tion :  to  make  judgment  wholly  by  their  rules,  is  the 
humour  of  a  scholar.  They  perfect  nature,  and  are  per- 
fected by  experience :  for  natural  abilities  are  like 
natural  plants,  that  need  pruning  by  study ;  and  stud- 
ies themselves  do  give  forth  directions  too  much  at 
large  except  they  be  bounded  in  by  experience.  Crafty 
men  contemn  studies,  simple  men  admire  them,  and 
wise  men  use  them ;  for  they  teach  not  their  own  use ; 
but  that  is  a  wisdom  without  them,  and  above  them, 


POLONIUS. 


427 


born  by  observation.  Read  not  to  confute  and  contra- 
dict; nor  to  believe  and  take  for  granted ;  but  to  weigh 
and  consider. 

Reading  maketh  a  full  man;   conference,  a  ready 
man ;  and  writing,  an  exact  man.  Bacon. 


THE    GENTLEMAN'S    CALLING. 

MEN  ought  to  know  that,  in  the  theatre  of  human 
life,  it  is  only  for  God  and  angels  to  be  Spectators. 

Bacon. 

To  make  some  nook  of  God's  creation  a  little  fruit- 
fuller,  better,  more   worthy   of  God:   to   make   some 
,  human  hearts  a  little  wiser,  maufuller,  happier ;  more 
blessed,  less  accursed !  —  It  is  work  for  a  God. 

Carlyle. 

"  I  lived  myself  like  a  Pauper,"  said  Pestalozzi,  u  to 
try  if  I  could  teach  Paupers  to  live  like  Men." 

''THE  ROLLING  STONE  GATHERS  NO  MOSS.'' 

Oh  unwise  mortals,  that  for  ever  change  and  shift, 
saying,  "  Yonder  —  not  here  " — wealth  richer  than  both 
the  Indies  lies  every  where  for  man,  if  he  will  endure. 
Not  his  oaks  only,  and  his  fruit  trees,  his  very  Heart 
roots  itself  wherever  he  will  abide ;  roots  itself,  draws 
nourishment  from  the  deep  fountains  of  universal  be- 
ing !  Vagrant  Sam  Slicks,  who  rove  over  the  earth 


428  POLONIUS. 

"doing-  strokes  of  trade" — what  wealth  have  these! 
Horse-loads,  ship-loads,  of  white  or  yellow  metal — in 
very  truth,  what  are  these  ?  Slick  rests  no  where  —  he  is 
homeless !  he  can  build  stone  or  marble  houses ;  but  to 
continue  in  them  is  denied  him.  The  wealth  of  a  man 
is  the  number  of  things  which  he  loves  and  blesses — 
which  he  is  loved  and  blessed  by.  The  herdsman  in  his 
clay  shealing,  where  his  very  cow  and  dog  are  friends 
to  him,  and  not  a  cataract  but  carries  memories  for  him, 
and  not  a  mountain-top  but  nods  old  recognition ;  his 
life,  all-encircled  as  in  blessed  mother's  arms,  is  it  poorer 
than  Slick's,  with  ass-loads  of  yellow  metal  on  his  back  ? 

Carlyle. 

Coalescere  otio  non  potes,  nisi  desinas  circumspicere 
et  errare.  Seneca. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

A  PRINCIPAL  fruit  of  Friendship  is  the  ease  and  dis- 
charge of  the  fulness  and  swelling  of  the  heart,  which 
passions  of  all  kinds  do  cause  and  induce.  We  know 
diseases  of  stoppings  and  suffocations  are  the  most  dan- 
gerous to  the  body  ;  and  it  is  not  otherwise  in  the  mind. 
You  may  take  sarza  to  open  the  liver ;  steel  to  open  the 
spleen ;  flour  of  sulphur  for  the  lungs ;  castoreum  for 
the  brain.  But  no  receipt  openeth  the  heart  but  a  true 
Friend ;  to  whom  you  may  impart  griefs,  joys,  fears, 
hopes,  suspicions,  counsels,  and  whatsoever  lieth  upon 


POLONIUS. 


429 


the  heart  to  oppress  it,  in  a  kind  of  civil  shrift  or  con- 
fession. Bacon. 

On  ne  sauroit  con  server  long-temps  les  sentiments 
qu'on  doit  avoir  pour  ses  amis  et  pour  ses  bienfaiteurs 
si  on  se  laisse  la  liberte  de  parler  de  leurs  defauts. 

Rochefoucauld. 

A  modern  Greek  proverb  says 

"  LOVE   YOUR   FRIEND   WITH    HIS   FOIBLE." 

And  finally,  beware  of  long  silence,  and  long  absence. 


"  OUT   OF   SIGHT,   OUT   OF   MIND  !  " 

And  so,  what  we  never  can  replace,  the  mirror  of  our 
former  selves,  is  broken  ! 

"  Old  friends,"  says  Selden,  "  are  best.  King  James 
used  to  call  for  his  old  shoes,  they  were  easiest  to  his 
feet." 

Those  that  have  loved  longest  love  best.  A  sudden 
blaze  of  kindness  may,  by  a  single  blast  of  coldness,  be 
extinguished  :  but  that  fondness  which  length  of  time 
has  connected  with  many  circumstances  and  occasions, 
though  it  may  be  for  a  while  suppressed  by  disgust  and 
resentment,  with  or  without  a  cause,  is  hourly  revived 
by  accidental  recollection.  To  those  who  have  lived 
long  together,  every  thing  heard,  and  every  thing  seen, 


430  POLONIUS. 

recalls  some  pleasure  communicated,  or  some  benefit 
conferred  ;  some  petty  quarrel,  or  some  slight  endear- 
ment. Esteem  of  great  powers,  or  amiable  qualities 
newly  discovered,  may  embroider  a  day  or  a  week;  but 
a  friendship  of  twenty  years  is  interwoven  with  the 
texture  of  life.  A  friend  may  be  often  found  and  lost ; 
but  an  old  friend  never  can  be  found,  and  nature  has 
provided  that  he  cannot  easily  be  lost.  Johnson. 


( V, 


AVAEICE. 
"  DREAM   OF   GOLD,   AND  WAKE   HUNGRY." 

WRETCHED  are  those  who  in  pursuit  of  gold 

Come  to  mistake  the  evil  for  the  good : 

For  getting  blinds  the  inward  eye  of  thought. 

From  the  Greek. 

Luther  thought  that  love  of  money,  besides  being  in 
other  ways  unprosperous,  foreboded  a  man's  death.  "  I 
hear  that  the  Prince  Elector,  George,  begins  to  be  Cov- 
etous, which  is  a  sign  of  his  death  very  shortly.  When 
I  saw  Dr.  Grode  begin  to  tell  his  puddings  hanging  in 
his  chimney,  I  told  him  he  would  not  live  long,  and  so 
it  fell  out," 

But  Misers,  unfortunately,  live  long, — -their  hard 
habit  of  mind  not  affected  perhaps  by  the  wear  and 
tear  of  other  passions  and  affections;  perpetually 
soothed  by  the  sight  of  increasing  wealth,  preserved 
by  the  very  temperance  their  avarice  prescribes. 


POLONIUS.  431 

G-oethe  defined  Italian  industry,  "  not  to  make  Riches, 
but  to  live  free  from  Care" — an  amiable  contrast  to 
much  of  ours. 


THE    SOUL    IS    THE    MAN. 
WE  were  indeed 

Tiavta  y.ov.^  xal  navta  yskwc,  vtal  ftavtoi  TO  JI.YJOEV, 

if  we  did  not  feel  that  we  were  so.  Coleridge. 

Man  is  but  a  reed  —  the  feeblest  thing  in  nature. 
But  then  he  is  a  reed  that  thinks.  It  needs  no  gather- 
ing up  of  the  powers  of  nature  to  crush  him :  a  vapour, 
a  drop  of  water,  will  do  it.  But  if  the  whole  universe 
should  fall  upon  him  and  crush  him,  man  would  yet  be 
more  noble  than  that  which  slew  him,  because  he  knows 
he  is  dying  ;  and  the  universe  knows  it  not.  Therefore 
it  is  that  our  whole  dignity  lies  but  in  this  —  the  faculty 
of  Thinking.  By  this  only  do  we  rise  in  the  scale  of 
being ;  not  by  any  extension  of  space  and  duration. 

Let  us  therefore  strive  to  Think  "Well.  Pascal. 


FAME. 


PRAISE  is  the  reflection  of  virtue ;  but  it  is  as  the 
glass  or  body  which  giveth  reflection.  If  it  be  from 
the  common  people,  it  is  commonly  false  and  nought ; 


432  POLONIUS. 

• 

and  rather  followeth  vain  persons  than  virtuous.  For 
the  common  people  understand  not  many  excellent 
virtues :  the  lowest  virtues  draw  praise  from  them ; 
the  middle  virtues  work  in  them  astonishment  or  ad- 
miration ;  but  of  the  highest  virtues  they  have  no  sense 
or  perceiving  at  all ;  but  shows,  and  species  virtutibus 
similes,  do  best  with  them.  Bacon. 

Thus  indeed  is  it  always,  or  nearly  always,  with  true 
Fame.  The  heavenly  luminary  rises  amid  vapours: 
star-gazers  enough  must  scan  it  with  critical  telescopes  ; 
it  makes  no  blazing  ;  the  world  can  either  look  at  it,  or 
forbear  looking  at  it.  Not  until  after  a  time  and  times 
does  its  celestial  nature  become  indubitable.  Pleasant, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  the  blazing  of  a  Tar-barrel :  the 
crowd  dance  merrily  round  it  with  loud  huzzaing,  uni- 
versal three  times  three,  and,  like  Homer's  peasants, 
"  bless  the  useful  light."  But  unhappily  it  so  soon 
ends  in  darkness,  foul  choking  smoke,  and  is  kicked 
into  the  gutters,  a  nameless  imbroglio  of  charred  staves, 
pitch  cinders,  and  "  vomissement  du  diable." 


THE  LIGHTING  OF  THE  TORCH. 

THE  human  mind  is  so  much  clogged  and  borne 
downward  by  the  strong  and  early  impressions  of  Sense, 
that  it  is  wonderful  how  the  ancients  should  have  made 
such  a  progress,  and  seen  so  far  into  intellectual  matters 


;V 


POLONIUS.  433 

without  some  glimmering  of  a  Divine  tradition.  Who- 
ever considers  a  parcel  of  rude  savages  left  to  them- 
selves, how  they  are  sunk  and  swallowed  up  in  sense  and 
prejudice,  and  how  unqualified  by  their  natural  force 
to  emerge  from  this  state,  will  be  apt  to  think  that  the 
first  spark  of  philosophy  was  derived  from  heaven,  and 
that  it  was,  as  a  heathen  writer  expresses  it,  6so7uapdSotos 

(j)tXoaO<{>ta.  Berkeley. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


SHE  neglects  her  heart  who  studies  her  glass.  He 
who  avoids  the  glass,  aghast  at  the  caricature  of  morally 
debased  features,  feels  mighty  strife  of  virtue  and  vice. 


Lavater. 


SOLOMON'S  SEAL. 


THE  Sultan  asked  Solomon  for  a  Signet  motto,  that 
should  hold  good  for  Adversity  or  Prosperity.  Solomon 
gave  him, 

"  THIS  ALSO   SHALL  PASS  AWAY." 


QUID  PRO  QUO. 

IF  the  doing  of  Right  depends  on  the  receiving  of  it ; 
if  our  fellow-men  in  this  world  are  not  Persons,  but 
mere  Things,  that  for  services  bestowed  will  return 


•28 


434  POLONIUS. 

services — Steam-engines  that  will  manufacture  calico 
if  we  put  in  coals  and  water  —  then,  doubtless,  the  calico 
ceasing,  our  coals  and  water  may  also  rationally  cease. 
But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  our  fellow-man  is  no  Steam- 
engine,  but  a  Man,  united  with  us  and  with  all  men  in 
sacred,  mysterious,  indissoluble  bonds,  in  an  all-embrac- 
ing love  that  encircles  at  once  the  seraph  and  the  glow- 
worm, then  will  our  duties  to  him  rest  on  quite  another 
basis  than  this  very  humble  one  of  Quid  pro  Quo. 

Carlyle. 
LOVE   IS  THE   TRUE   PRICE   OF   LOVE. 


THE  WORLD  WE  LIVE  IN. 

ALTHOUGH  the  misery  on  earth  is  great  indeed,  yet 
the  foundation  of  it  rests,  after  deduction  of  the  partly 
bearable,  and  partly  imaginary,  evil  of  the  natural 
world,  entirely  and  alone  on  the  moral  dealings  of  Man. 

Coleridge,  from  the  German. 

Could  the  world  unite  in  the  practice  of  that  despised 
train  of  virtues  which  the  divine  ethics  of  our  Saviour 
hath  so  inculcated  upon  us,  the  furious  face  of  things 
must  disappear ;  Eden  would  be  yet  to  be  found,  and 
the  Angels  might  look  down  not  with  pity  but  joy  upon 

US.  Sir  T.  Broivne. 

And  how  are  we  to  set  about  passing  this  greatest 

REFORM    BILL  f 


POLONIUS.  435 

To  two  bad  verses  which  I  write 

Two  good  shall  be  appended : 
IF  EVERY  MAN  WOULD  MEND  A  MAN, 

THEN  ALL  MANKIND  WERE  MENDED. 

"  HAVE  AT  IT,  AND  HAVE  IT." 

One  might  add  many  capital  English  proverbs  of  this 
kind,  all  so  characteristic  of  the  activity  and  boldness 
of  our  forefathers. 

The  Romans  had  the  same.  "  Vetus  proverbium  est, 
Gfladiatorem  in  arena  capere  consilium." 

"  Not  to  resolve,  is  to  resolve,"  says  Bacon.  "  Neces- 
sity, and  this  same  '  Jacta  est  Alea,'  hath  many  times 
an  advantage,  because  it  awaketh  the  powers  of  the 
mind,  and  strengthened  endeavour  —  '  ceteris  pares, 
necessitate  cert&  superiores.' " 

It  has  been  said,  the  English  are  wise  in  action,  not 
in  thought.  It  has  been  also  said  by  the  head  of  a 
people  of  thought,  that,  "  Doubt  of  any  kind  can  only 
be  removed  by  action." 

While  we  sit  still,  we  are  never  the  wiser ;  but  going 
into  the  river,  and  moving  up  and  down,  is  the  way  to 
discover  its  depths  and  shallows.  Bacon. 

Men,  till  a  matter  be  done,  wonder  that  it  can  be 
done ;  and  as  soon  as  it  is  done,  wonder  again  that  it 
was  no  sooner  done.  Bacon. 

When  you  tell  a  man  at  once,  and  straight  forward, 
the  purpose  of  any  object,  he  fancies  there  is  nothing 
in  it.  Goethe. 


436  POLONIUS. 

"  I  am  persuaded,  that  if  the  majority  of  mankind 
could  be  made  to  see  the  order  of  the  Universe,  such  as 
it  is, —  as  they  would  not  remark  in  it  any  virtues 
attached  to  certain  numbers,  nor  any  properties  inher- 
ent in  certain  planets,  nor  fatalities  in  certain  times  and 
revolutions  of  these ;  they  would  not  be  able  to  restrain 
themselves,  on  the  sight  of  this  admirable  regularity 
and  beauty,  from  crying  out  with  astonishment  — 
What !  is  this  all  ? " 

OMNE   IGNOTUM  PEG   MAGNIFICO. 


ANGER 

Is  certainly  a  kind  of  baseness,  as  it  appears  well  in 
the  weakness  of  those  subjects  in  whom  it  reigns  — 
Children,  women,  old  folks,  sick  folks.  Bacon. 

While  Sir  Gareth  of  Orkney  is  disguised  as  a  servant, 
the  kitchen-wench  calls  out  —  "  Oh  Jhesu,  merveille 
have  I  what  manner  a  man  ye  be,  for  it  may  never  ben 
otherwise  but  that  ye  be  comen  of  a  noble  blood,  for  so 
foule  ne  shamefully  dyd  never  woman  rule  a  knyghte  as 
I  have  done  you,  and  ever  curtoisly  ye  have  suffred 
me  ;  and  that  cam  never  but  of  a  gentyl  blood." 


K. 


Ung  chevalier,  n'en  doubtez  pas, 
Doibt  ferir  hault,  et  parler  bas. 


POLONIUS. 


437 


A  Gallant  man  is  above  ill  words.  An  example  we 
have  in  the  old  Lord  Salisbury,  who  was  a  great  wise 
man.  Stone  had  called  some  Lord  about  court,  "Fool; " 
the  Lord  complains,  and  has  Stone  whipt.  Stone  cries, 
"  I  might  have  called  my  Lord  of  Salisbury  'Fool '  often 
enough  before  he  would  have  had  me  whipt."  seiden. 

"FAST  BIND  FAST  FIND." 

Diderot  has  convinced  himself,  and  indeed,  as  above 
became  plain  enough,  acts  on  the  conviction,  that  Mar- 
riage, contract  it,  solemnise  it,  in  what  way  you  will, 
involves  a  solecism  which  reduces  the  amount  of  it  to 
simple  Zero.  It  is  a  suicidal  covenant ;  annuls  itself  in 
the  very  forming.  ''Thou  makest  a  vow/'  says  he,  twice 
or  thrice,  as  if  the  argument  were  a  clencher  —  "  Thou 
makest  a  vow  of  Eternal  constancy  under  a  rock  which 
is  even  then  crumbling  away."  True,  0  Denis :  the 
rock  crumbles  away ;  all  things  are  changing  ;  man 
changes  faster  than  most  of  them.  Man  changes,  and 
will  change  :  the  question  then  arises,  Is  it  wise  in  him 
to  tumble  forth  in  headlong  obedience  to  this  love  of 
change  ;  is  it  so  much  as  possible  for  him  ?  Among  the 
dualisms  of  man's  wholly  dualistic  state,  this  we  might 
fancy  was  an  observable  one ;  that  along  with  his  un- 
ceasing tendency  to  Change,  there  is  no  less  ineradicable 
tendency  to  Persevere.  How  in  this  world  of  perpetual 
flux  shall  man  secure  himself  the  smallest  foundation, 
except  hereby  alone ;  that  he  take  pre-assurance  of 
his  fate;  that  in  this  and  the  other  high  act  of  his 


438  POLONIUS. 

life,  his  will,  with,  all  solemnity,  abdicate  its  right  to 
Change ;  voluntarily  become  involuntary,  and  say  once 
for  all  —  Be  there  no  further  dubitation  on  it !  cariyie. 


PEDIGREE. 

NOBLES  and  heralds,  by  your  leave, 
Here  lie  the  bones  of  Matthew  Prior; 

He  was  the  son  of  Adam  and  Eve  — 
Let  Nassau  or  Bourbon  go  higher. 

No  Prince,  how  great  'soever,  begets  his  Predeces- 
sors ;  and  the  noblest  rivers  are  not  navigable  to  the 
Fountain.  Even  the  Parentage  of  the  Nile  is  yet  in 
obscurity,  and  't  is  a  dispute  among  authors  whether 
Snow  be  not  the  head  of  his  pedigree.  A. 


CURIOSITY. 

A  MAN  that  is  busy  and  inquisitive  is  commonly 
Envious :  for  to  know  much  of  other  men's  matters 
cannot  be  because  all  that  ado  may  concern  his  own 
estate;  therefore  it  must  needs  be  that  he  taketh  a  kind 
of  play-pleasure  in  looking  upon  the  fortunes  of  others. 
Neither  can  he  that  mindeth  but  his  own  business  find 
much  matter  for  envy  ;  for  envy  is  a  gadding  passion, 
and  walketh  the  streets,  and  doth  not  keep  house. 
"  Non  est  Curiosus  quiii  idem  sit  Maleficus.  Bacon. 


POLONIUS.  439 

POLEMICS. 

Fallacia  alia  aliam  trudit. 

''ONE   NAIL   DRIVES   OUT   ANOTHER." 

THE  Polemic  annihilates  his  opponent  ;  but  in  doing 
so  annihilates  himself  too  ;  and  both  are  swept  away  to 
make  room  for  something  other  and  better. 


Generally,  when  truth  is  communicated  polemically, 
(that  is,  not  as  it  exists  in  its  own  inner  Simplicity,  but 
as  it  exists  in  external  relations  to  error,)  the  tempta- 
tion is  excessive  to  use  those  arguments  which  will  tell 
at  the  moment  upon  the  crowd  of  by-standers,  in  pref- 
erence to  those  which  will  approve  themselves  ulti- 
mately to  enlightened  disciples.  If  a  man  denied  him- 
self all  specious  arguments  and  all  artifices  of  dialectic 
subtlety,  he  must  renounce  the  hopes  of  a  present  tri- 
umph ;  for  the  light  of  absolute  truth,  011  moral  or  on 
spiritual  themes,  is  too  dazzling  to  be  sustained  by  the 
diseased  optics  of  those  habituated  to  darkness,  &c. 

Blacku-ood,  19. 

"  Such  are  the  folios  of  Schoolmen  and  Theologians. 
Let  us  preserve  them  in  our  libraries,  however,  out  of 
reverence  for  men  who  fought  well  in  their  day  with 
the  weapons  then  in  use  ;  and  also,  as  perpetual  monu- 
ments of  what  has  been  thoroughly  tried  and  found  to 
fail.  These  folios  do  very  well  to  block  up  one  of  the 
roads  that  lead  to  nothing." 


440  POLONIUS. 

THE  TIME  OF  DAY. 

IN  the  Youth  of  a  state,  Arms  do  flourish;  in  the 
middle  age  of  a  state,  Learning ;  and  then  both  of  them 
together  for  a  time  ;  in  the  declining  age  of  a  state,  me- 
chanical arts  and  merchandise.  Bacon. 


SOLITUDE. 

CRATES  saw  a  young  man  walking  alone,  and  asked 
him  what  he  was  about.  "  Conversing  with  myself." 
"  Take  care/7  said  Crates,  "  you  may  have  got  into  very 
bad  company." 

"Eagles  may  fly  alone;  but  I  believe  all  the  wiser 
animals  live  in  societies  and  ordered  communities." 

"BE  NOT   SOLITARY.      BE  NOT   IDLE." 


"  TOUCH  PITCH  AND   BE   DAUBED." 

NEVER  wholly  separate  in  your  mind  the  merits  of 
any  political  question  from  the  Men  who  are  concerned 
in  it.  You  will  be  told,  that  if  a  measure  is  good,  what 
have  you  to  do  with  the  character  and  views  of  those 
who  bring  it  forward  ?  But  designing  men  never  sep- 
arate their  plans  from  their  interests,  and  if  you  assist 
them  in  their  schemes,  you  will  find  the  pretended  good 
in  the  end  thrown  aside,  or  perverted,  and  the  inter- 


POLONIUS.  441 

ested  object  alone  compassed ;  and  this  perhaps  through 
your  means.  Burke. 

"  THE  DEVIL  CAN   QUOTE   SCRIPTURE,"  &C. 


"HE  IS  WISE  THAT   FOLLOWS  THE  WISE." 

"  WHAT  can  the  incorruptiblest  Bobuses  elect,  if  it  be 
not  some  Bobissimus,  should  they  find  such  ?  " 

The  Gods,  when  they  appeared  to  men,  were  com- 
monly unrecognised  of  them.  Goethe. 


THE  EYE  FOR  HISTOEY. 

THE  difference  between  a  great  mind's  and  a  little 
mind's  use  of  History  is  this  :  the  latter  would  consider, 
for  instance,  what  Luther  did,  taught,  or  sanctioned; 
the  former,  what  Luther  —  a  Luther  —  would  now  do, 
teach,  and  sanction. 


Some  persons  are  shocked  at  the  cruelty  of  Walton's 
Angler,  as  if  the  most  humane  could  be  expected  to 
trouble  themselves  about  fixing  a  worm  on  a  hook  at  a 
time  when  they  burnt  men  at  a  stake  in  conscience  and 
tender  heart.  We  are  not  to  measure  the  feelings  of 
one  age  by  those  of  another.  Had  Walton  lived  in  our 
day,  he  would  have  been  the  first  to  cry  out  against  the 
cruelty  of  angling.  As  it  was,  his  flies  and  baits  were 
only  a  part  of  his  tackle.  Ha:iui. 


442  POLONIUS. 

"  So  from  the  failings  of  the  good  to  the  vices  of  the 
bad.  '  Give  the  devil  his  due.'  Henry  the  Eighth,  had 
he  lived  now,  might  be  little  more  than  the  '  First  Gen- 
tleman in  Europe.'  He  would  but  cheat  his  subjects, 
(if  he  could,)  and  tease  his  wives  to  death  without  mur- 
dering either.  He  could  not  have  done  what  he  did  had 
not  his  people,  in  some  measure,  approved  it;  they  were 
as  ready  to  burn  heretics,  and  disembowel  traitors,  as 
he;  and  ready  to  be  burned  and  disemboweled  them- 
selves when  their  turn  came.  We  are  surprised  to  read 
of  Henry's  victims  praying  for  him  on  the  scaffold;  but 
religion  ^and  loyalty  were  one,  and  men's  bodies  and 
souls  were  stouter." 


LEAENING. 

WE  have  to  bear  in  mind  what  was  said  after  the 
revival  of  letters  by  men  of  all  creeds,  that  Learning  is 
the  fruit  of  Piety;  in  order  that,  by  the  sincerity  of  our 
hearts,  by  knowledge  of  ourselves,  and  by  a  conscien- 
tious walk  in  the  sight  of  God,  we  may  guard  ourselves 
against  the  desire  to  appear  what  we  are  not ;  that  we 
may  never  forgive  ourselves  the  slightest  desertion 
from  Truth ;  and  that  we  may  never  consider  as  Truth 
any  result  of  our  investigations  that  flatters  our  wishes, 
so  long  as  there  is  in  our  conscience  the  slightest  feel- 
ing of  its  being  wrong. 


POLONIUS.  443 

Each  man,  who  has  no  gift  for  producing  first-rate 
works,  should  entirely  abstain  from  the  pursuit  of  Art, 
and  seriously  guard  himself  against  any  deception  on 
that  subject.  For  it  must  be  owned  that  in  all  men 
there  is  a  certain  vague  desire  to  imitate  whatever  is 
presented  to  them  ;  and  such  desires  do  not  prove  at  all 
that  we  possess  the  force  within  us  necessary  for  such 
enterprises.  Look  at  boys,  how,  whenever  any  rope- 
dancers  have  been  visiting  the  town,  they  go  scram- 
bling up  and  down,  and  balancing  on  all  the  planks  and 
beams  within  their  reach,  till  some  other  charm  calls 
them  off  to  other  sports,  for  which,  perhaps,  they  are  as 
little  suited.  Hast  thou  never  marked  it  in  the  circle  of 
our  friends!  No  sooner  does  a  Dilettante  introduce' 
himself  to  notice,  than  numbers  of  them  set  themselves 
to  learn  playing  on  his  instrument.  How  many  wan- 
der back  and  forward  on  this  bootless  way!  Happy 
they  who  soon  detect  the  chasm  that  lies  between  their 
Wishes  and  their  Powers.  wwieim 


Nothing  in  prose  or  verse  was  ever  yet  worth  a  wisp 
to  rub  down  the  writer  with,  produced  in  a  "  fit  of  sym- 
pathetic admiration."  Christopher  X 


"SAY-  WELL   AND    DO-WELL   END   WITH   ONE   LETTER: 
SAY-WELL   IS    GOOD;    BUT    DO-WELL   IS   BETTER." 

Plato,   et  Aristoteles,   et  omnis  in  diversum   itura 
sapientium  turba,  plus  ex  Moribus  quam   ex   Yerbis 

traxit.  Seneca. 


444  POLONIUS. 

Preachers  say,  "  Do  as  I  say,  not  as  I  do."  But  if  a 
physician  had  the  same  disease  on  him  that  I  have,  and 
he  should  bid  me  do  one  thing,  and  he  do  another,  could 
I  believe  him  ?  seiden. 


FAMILY  TIES. 

CERTAINLY,  Wife  and  Children  are  a  kind  of  disci- 
pline of  humanity ;  and  single  men,  though  they  be  many 
times  more  Charitable,  because  their  means  are  less 
exhaust,  on  the  other  side,  they  are  more  Cruel  and 
hard-hearted —  good  to  make  severe  inquisitors,  because 
their  tenderness  is  not  so  often  called  upon.  Bacon. 


A  PERSIAN  LEGEND. 

"  A  CERTAIN  man  of  Bagdad  dreamed  one  night  that 
in  a  certain  house  in  a  certain  street  in  Cairo  he  should 
find  a  treasure.  To  Egypt  accordingly  he  set  forth, 
and  met  in  the  Desert  with  one  who  was  on  his  road 
from  Cairo  to  Bagdad,  having  dreamt  that  in  a  certain 
house  in  a  certain  street  there  lie  should  find  a  treas- 
ure :  and  lo,  each  of  these  men  had  been  directed  to  the 
other's  house  to  find  a  treasure  that  only  needed  look- 
ins:  for  in  his  own." 


POLONIUS.  445 

The  error  of  a  lively  rake  lies  in  his  Passions,  which 
may  be  reformed ;  but  a  dry  rogue,  who  sets  up  for 
Judgment,  is  incorrigible.  Berkeley. 

Nothing  is  more  unsatisfactory  than  a  mature  judg- 
ment adopted  by  an  immature  mind.  Goethe. 


ORATORY. 

QUESTION  was  asked  of  Demosthenes,  what  was  the 
chief  part  of  an  Orator  f  He  answered,  Action.  What 
next  ?  Action.  What  next  again  ?  Action.  He  said 
it  that  knew  it  best  ;  and  had  by  nature  himself  no  ad- 
vantage in  that  he  commended.  A  strange  thing,  that 
that  part  of  an  Orator,  which  is  but  superficial,  and 
rather  the  virtue  of  a  Player,  should  be  placed  so  high 
above  those  other  noble  parts  of  invention,  elocution, 
and  the  rest  ;  nay,  almost  as  if  it  were  all  in  all.  But 
the  reason  is  plain.  There  is  in  human  nature,  gener- 
ally, more  of  the  Fool  than  of  the  Wise  ;  and  therefore 
those  faculties  by  which  the  Foolish  part  of  men's 
minds  is  taken,  are  most  potent.  Bacon. 

Fox  used  to  say,  that  if  a  speech  read  very  well  it  was 
not  a  good  speech. 

Burke,  whose  rising  emptied  the  House,  is  the  only 
one  of  the  Orators  of  that  day  who  now  can  be  said  to 
survive.  The  rest  were  wise  in  their  generation,  and 
are  gone  with  it. 


> 


446  POLONIUS. 

"NEVEK  SIGH,  BUT  SEND." 

ONE  secret  act  of  self-denial,  one  sacrifice  of  incli- 
nation to  duty,  is  worth,  all  the  mere  good  thoughts, 
warm  feelings,  passionate  prayers,  in  which  idle  people 
indulge  themselves.  It  will  give  us  more  comfort  on 
our  death-bed  to  reflect  on  one  deed  of  self-denying 
mercy,  purity,  or  humility,  than  to  recollect  the  shed- 
ding of  many  tears,  and  the  recurrence  of  frequent 
transports,  and  much  spiritual  exultation. 

I  would  have  a  man  disbelieve  he  can  do  one  jot  or 
tittle  more  than  he  has  already  done ;  refrain  from  bor- 
rowing aught  on  the  hope  of  the  future,  however  good 
a  security  he  seems  to  be  able  to  show ;  and  never  to 
take  his  good  feelings  and  wishes  in  pledge  for  one 
single  untried  deed. 

NOTHING    BUT  PAST  ACTS    ARE   VOUCHERS  FOR    FUTURE. 

Newman. 


VANITY— BY  A  FRENCHMAN. 

IL  n'y  a  que  ceux  qui  sont  Meprisables  qui  craignent 
d'etre  Meprises. 

Si  nous  ne  Flattions  pas  nous-memes,  la  Flatterie  des 
autres  lie  nous  pourroit  nuire. 

Si  nous  n'avions  point  d'Orgueil,  nous  ne  nous 
plaindrions  pas  de  celui  des  autres. 

Les  passions  les  plus  violentes  nous  laissent  quelque- 
fois  du  relache  ;  mais  la  Vanite  nous  agite  tou jours. 


POLONIUS.  447 

PREJUDICE. 

No  one  has  a  right  to  congratulate  his  neighbour  that 
a  deep-rooted  Conviction  has  departed  out  of  his  mind, 
unless  a  Truth  has  replaced  it.  Earnest  feelings  may 
have  been  entwined  about  it,  and  may  perish  with  it  — 
how  likely  that  the  void  in  the  heart  will  be  supplied 
with  worse  vanities  than  those  which  have  been  aban- 
doned. Eustace  Connay. 


HYPOCEISY. 

THERE  is  no  vice,  says  Rochefoucauld,  that  is  not 
better  than  the  means  we  take  to  conceal  it. 

A  vice,  determining  outwardly,  is  nearer  to  extinction 
than  that  which  smoulders  inwardly. 

It  is  not  in  human  nature  to  deceive  Others,  for  any 
long  time,  without,  in  a  measure,  deceiving  Ourselves. 

Newman. 

The  Mask  grows  one  with  the  Face,  and  so  we  see  it 
in  the  glass. 

The  beginning  of  self-deception  is  when  we  begin  to 
find  reasons  for  our  propensities. 

The  chief  stronghold  of  Hypocrisy  is  to  be  always 
judging  one  another.  Milton. 

To  those  to  whom  it  is  of  no  moment  to  say,  "Do 
all  as  if  God  were  looking  at  thee,"  Seneca's  ruU- 


448  POLONIUS. 

may  apply,  "  Do  all  as  if  some  Man  were  looking  at 
thee." 

Finally,  Xenophon  says  the  easiest  way  to  seem  good 
is  to  be  good. 


NO  FABLE. 

AN  ancient  Oak  being  cut  down,  and  split  through 
the  midst,  out  of  the  very  heart  of  the  tree  crept  a  large 
Toad,  and  walked  away  with  all  the  speed  he  could. 
Now  how  long,  may  we  probably  imagine,  had  this 
creature  continued  there  ?  It  is  not  unlikely  it  might 
have  remained  iif  its  nest  above  a  hundred  years.  It  is 
not  improbable  it  was  nearly,  if  not  altogether,  co-eval 
with  the  oak ;  having  been,  some  way  or  other,  enclosed 
therein  at  the  time  of  planting. 

This  poor  animal  had  organs  of  sense,  yet  it  had  not 
any  sensation.  It  had  eyes,  yet  no  ray  of  light  ever 
entered  its  black  abode.  There  was  nothing  to  hear, 
nothing  to  taste  or  smell,  for  there  was  no  air  to  circu- 
late, there  was  no  space  to  move.  From  the  very  first 
instant  of  its  existence,  there  it  was  shut  up  in  impene- 
trable darkness.  It  was  shut  up  from  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars,  and  from  the  beautiful  face  of  nature ;  in- 
deed, from  the  whole  visible  world,  as  much  as  if  it  had 
no  being. 

He  who  lives  ''  without  God  in  the  world,"  is,  in  re- 
spect to  the  Invisible  world,  as  this  toad  was  in  respect 
to  the  Visible  world.  j.  Wesley. 


POLONIUS.  449 

THE  AET  OF  GOVERNING. 

To  learn  Obeying  is  the  fundamental  art  of  Govern- 
ing. How  much  would  any  Serene  Highness  have 
learned,  had  he  travelled  through  the  world  with  water 
jug  and  empty  wallet,  sine  omni  impensa,  and  at  his  vic- 
torious return  sat  down,  not  to  newspaper  paragraphs 
and  city  illuminations,  but  at  the  foot  of  St.  Edmund's 
shrine,  to  shackles  and  bread  and  water  !  He  that  can- 
not be  servant  of  many,  will  never  be  master,  true  guide, 
and  deliverer,  of  many;  that  is  the  true  meaning  of 
mastership.  Heavens !  had  a  Duke  of  Logwood,  now 
rolling  sumptuously  to  his  place  in  the  Collective  Wis- 
dom, but  himself  happened  to  plough  daily,  at  one  time 
with  Is.  6d.  a  week,  with  no  out-door  relief  —  what  a 
light,  unquenchable  by  logic,  and  statistic,  and  arith- 
metic, would  he  have  thrown  on  several  things  for 

him.  Carlyle. 

The  hall  was  the  place  where  the  great  lord  used  to 
eat,  (wherefore  else  were  the  halls  made  so  large?) 
where  he  saw  his  tenants  about  him.  He  never  eat  in 
private,  except  in  time  of  sickness.  When  once  he 
became  a  thing  cooped  up,  all  his  greatness  was 
spoiled.  Nay,  the  king  himself  used  to  eat  in  the  hall, 
and  his  lords  sat  with  him  —  and  thus  he  understood 

Men.  Selden. 

"THE  FAT  sow  KNOWS  NOT  WHAT  THE  LEAN  ONE 

THINKS." 


29 


450  POLONIUS. 

MELANCHOLY  AND  MADNESS. 

LET  him  not  be  alone  or  idle,  in  any  kind  of  melan- 
choly, but  still  accompanied  with  such  friends  and 
familiars  he  most  affects,  neatly  drest,  washt,  and 
combed,  according  to  his  ability,  at  least  in  clean  linen, 
spruce,  handsome,  decent,  sweet,  and  good  apparel ;  for 
nothing  sooner  dejects  a  man  than  want,  squalor,  and 
nastiness,  foul  or  old  clothes  out  of  fashion.  Burton. 

If  I  could  get  his  beard  and  hood  removed  I  should 
reckon  it  a  weighty  point ;  for  nothing  more  exposes  us 
to  madness  than  distinguishing  ourselves  from  others, 
and  nothing  more  contributes  to  maintain  our  common 
sense  than  living  in  the  universal  way  with  multitudes 

Of  men.  Goethe. 

BE  NOT   SOLITARY,   BE  NOT   IDLE. 


TOSSING  THE   THOUGHTS. 

WHOSOEVER  hath  his  mind  fraught  with  many 
Thoughts,  his  wits  and  understanding  do  clarify  and 
break  up  in  the  communication  and  discoursing  with 
another  ;  he  tosseth  his  thoughts  more  easily ;  he  mar- 
shalleth  them  more  orderly;  he  seeth  how  they  look 
when  they  are  turned  into  words  :  finally,  he  waxeth 
wiser  than  himself ;  and  that  more  by  an  hour's  Dis- 
course than  by  a  day's  Meditation.  It  was  well  said  by 
Themistocles  to  the  king  of  Persia,  "  that  Speech  was 


POLONIUS.  451 

like  cloth  of  Arras  opened  and  put  abroad;  whereby 
the  imagery  doth  appear  in  figure  ;  whereas  in  Thoughts 
they  lie  but  in  packs." 

Neither  is  this  second  fruit  of  Friendship  in  opening 
the  understanding  restrained  only  to  such  friends  as 
are  able  to  give  a  man  counsel,  (they  indeed  are  best,) 
but  even  without  that,  a  man  learneth  of  himself,  and 
bringeth  his  own  thoughts  to  light,  and  whetteth  his 
wits  as  against  a  stone,  which  itself  cuts  not.  In  a 
word,  a  man  were  better  relate  himself  to  a  picture  or 
a  statue,  than  to  suffer  his  thoughts  to  pass  in  smother. 

Bacon. 
PETIT   A  PETIT 

L'OISEAU  FAIT   SON  NID. 

Let  him  take  heart  who  does  but,  even  the  least 
little,  advance.  Plato. 

And  I  must  work  through  months  of  toil, 

And  years  of  cultivation, 
Upon  my  proper  patch  of  soil 

To  grow  my  own  plantation  : 
I'll  take  the  showers  as  they  fall, 

I  will  not  vex  my  bosom; 
Content  if  at  the  end  of  all 

A  little  garden  blossom.  A.  Tennyson. 


A  HANDFUL  OF   ARROWS. 

EVERY  new  institution  should  be  but  a  fuller  develop- 
ment of,  or  addition  to,  what  already  exists.      xiebuitr. 


452  POLONIUS. 

He  that  changes  his  party  from  Humour  is  not  more 
virtuous  than  he  who  changes  it  for  Interest ;  he  loves 
Himself  better  than  Truth.  Johnson. 

Opposition  to  Authority  is  a  good  reason,  not  for 
suppressing  a  theory,  but  for  delivering  it  in  modest 
and  tolerant  language.  Goethe. 

"  He  who  tells  all  he  knows,  will  also  tell  more  than 
he  knows." 

Show  me  a  man  who  loves  no  one  place  better  than 
another,  and  I  will  show  you  a  man  who  loves  nothing 

but  himself.  Southey. 

The  great  Art  now  to  be  learned  is  the  Art  of  staying 
at  Home. 

Upon  the  same  Man,  as  upon  a  vineyard  planted  on  a 
mount,  there  grow  more  kinds  of  wine  than  one:  on 
the  south  side,  something  little  worse  than  Nectar ;  on 
the  north,  something  little  better  than  Vinegar. 

Richter. 

What  has  Life  to  show  us  but  the  glass-door  of 
Heaven  ?  Through  it  we  see  the  highest  beauty  and 
the  highest  bliss — but  it  is  not  open.*  sichter. 

*  "Even  that  vulgar  and  tavern  music,  which  makes  one  man 
Merry  and  another  Mad,  strikes  in  me  a  deep  fit  of  Devotion, 
and  a  profound  contemplation  of  the  FIRST  COMPOSER  ;  there  is 
something  in  it  of  Divinity  more  than  the  Ear  discovers  ;  it  is  an 
Hieroglyphical  and  shadowed  lesson  of  the  Whole  World,  and  crea- 
tures of  God ;  such  a  Melody  to  the  Ear,  as  the  whole  world,  well 
understood,  would  afford  the  Understanding  —  a  sensible  fit  of  that 
Harmony  which  Intellectually  sounds  in  the  Ears  of  GOD." 

Sir  T.  Browne. 


POLONIUS.  453 

The  grand  basis  of  Christianity  is  broad  enough  for 
the  whole  bulk  of  Mankind  to  stand  on,  and  join  hands 
as  children  of  one  family.  Lancaster. 

Who  hunt  the  World's  delight  too  late  their  hunting  rue, 
When  it  a  Lion  proves  the  hunter  to  pursue. 

Sin  not  until  't  is  left  will  truly  sinful  seem ; 

A  man  must  be  Awake  ere  he  can  tell  his  Dream.    Trench. 


AESTHETICS. 

MEMORABLE  —  because  of  the  high  Office  of  the 
speaker,  and  the  Place  he  spoke  in — was  the  praise  ad- 
dressed by  Lord  Palmerston  to  an  English  Gentleman, 
who  had  been  visiting  Naples,  not  to  explore  volcanoes 
and  excavated  cities,  but  to  go  down  into  the  prisons 
and  declare  to  all  Europe  the  horrors  of  Tyranny  and 
misgovermnent. 

Oh  would  <' YOUNG  ENGLAND"  half  the  study  tin-own 

Into  Greek  annals  turn  upon  our  own ; 

Would  spell  the  Actual  Present's  open  book 

Where  men  may  read  strange  matters — learn  that  Cook, 

Tailor,  and  Dancer,  are  ill  Heraldry, 

Compared  with  LIVING  PLAIN  AND  THINKING  HIGH: 

That  Fools  enough  have  travell'd  tip  the  Rhine ; 

Discuss'd  Italian  Operas,  French  Wine, 

Gaped  at  the  Pope,  call'd  Raffaelle  "dinne" 

Yea,  could  the  Nation  with  one  single  will 

Renounce  the  Arts  she  only  bungles  still. 


454  POLONIUS. 

And  stick  to  that  which  of  all  nations  best 
She  knows,  and  which  is  well  worth  all  the  rest, 
Just  Government — by  the  ancient  Three-fold  Cord 
Faster  secured  than  by  the  point  of  Sword — 
Would  we  but  teach  THE  PEOPLE,  from  whom  Power 
Grows  slowly  up  into  the  Sovereign  Flower, 
By  all  just  dealing  with  them,  head  and  heart 
Wisely  and  religiously  to  do  their  part; 
And  heart  and  hand,  whene'er  the  hour  may  come, 
Answer  Brute  force,  that  will  not  yet  be  dumb. — 
Lest,  like  some  mighty  ship  that  rides  the  sea, 
Old  England,  one  last  refuge  of  the  Free, 
Should,  while  all  Europe  Thunders  with  the  waves 
Of  war,  which  shall  be  Tyrants,  Czars,  or  Slaves, 
Suddenly,  with  sails  set  and  timbers  true, 
Go  down,  betray'd  by  a  degenerate  crew! 


"  SECOND  THOUGHTS  ARE  BEST." 

"No,"  says  the  Guesser  at  Truth,  "First  Thoughts 
are  best,  being  those  of  Generous  Impulse ;  whereas 
Second  Thoughts  are  those  of  Selfish  Prudence ;  best  in 
worldly  wisdom ;  but,  in  a  higher  economy,  worst." 

The  proverb,  in  fact,  as  so  many  of  its  kind  are  said 
to  do,  tells  just  half  the  truth  ;  —  needing  its  converse 
to  complete  the  whole. 

For,  if  a  man  be  Generous  by  nature,  then  it  may  be 
as  the  Guesser  at  Truth  says.  But  if  he  be  «>?generous 
by  nature,  then  the  order  is  reversed,  and  the  proverb 
will  hold  even  in  that  better  economy  adverted  to — his 
First  Thoughts  will  be  those  of  Selfish  Policy ;  but  his 


POLONIUS. 


455 


Second  may  be  those,  not  of  Generous  Impulse  indeed, 
but  of  a  Generous  Religion  or  Philosophy. 


LOT  IN  LIFE. 
"EVERY  PATH  HAS  A  PUDDLE." 

WHATSOEVER  is  under  the  moon  is  subject  to  corrup- 
tion —  alteration ;  and  so  long  as  thou  livest  upon  earth 
look  not  for  other.  Thou  shalt  not  here  find  peaceable 
and  cheerful  days,  quiet  times ;  but  rather  clouds, 
storms,  calumnies  —  such  is  our  fate.  And  as  those 
errant  planets  in  their  distinct  orbs  have  their  several 
motions,  sometimes  direct,  stationary,  retrograde,  in 
apogeo,  perigeo,  oriental,  occidental,  combust,  feral, 
free,  and  (as  our  astrologers  will)  have  their  fortitudes 
and  debilities,  by  reason  of  those  good  and  bad  irradia- 
tions, conferred  to  each  other's  site  in  the  heavens,  in 
their  terms,  houses,  cases,  detriments,  &c. ; —  so  we  rise 
and  fall  in  this  world,  ebb  and  flow,  in  and  out,  reared 
and  dejected;  lead  a  troublesome  life,  subject  to  many 
accidents  and  casualties  of  fortunes,  infirmities,  as  well 
from  ourselves  as  others. 

Yea,  but  thou  thinkest  thou  art  more  miserable  than 
the  rest ;  other  men  are  happy  in  respect  of  thee ;  their 
miseries  are  but  flea-bitings  to  thine;  thou  alone  art 
unhappy,  none  so  bad  as  thyself.  Yet  if,  as  Socrates 
said,  all  men  in  the  world  should  come  and  bring  their 


456  POLONIUS. 

grievances  together,  of  body,  mind,  fortune,  sores, 
ulcers,  madness,  epilepsies,  agues,  and  all  those  com- 
mon calamities  of  beggary,  want,  servitude,  imprison- 
ment —  and  lay  them  on  a  heap  to  be  equally  divided  — 
wouldst  thou  share  alike,  and  take  thy  portion,  or  be  as 
thou  art  ?  Without  question  thou  wouldst  be  as  thou 
art. 

Every  man  knows  his  own,  but  not  others'  defects 
and  miseries ;  and  't  is  the  nature  of  all  men  still  to 
reflect  upon  themselves,  their  own  misfortunes ;  not  to 
examine  or  consider  other  men's ;  not  to  confer  them- 
selves with  others :  to  recount  their  own  miseries,  but 
not  their  good  gifts,  fortunes,  benefits,  which  they 
have  ;  to  ruminate  on  their  adversity,  but  not  once  to 
think  on  their  prosperity  —  not  what  they  have,  but 
what  they  want ;  to  look  still  on  those  that  go  before, 
but  not  on  those  infinite  numbers  that  come  after. 
Whereas  many  a  man  would  think  himself  in  heaven,  a 
petty  prince,  if  he  had  but  the  least  part  of  that  fortune 
which  thou  so  much  repinest  at,  abhorrest,  and  account- 
est  a  most  vile  and  wretched  estate.  How  many  thou- 
sands want  that  which  thou  hast !  How  many  myriads 
of  poor  slaves,  captives,  of  such  as  work  day  and  night 
in  coal-pits,  tin-mines,  with  sore  toil  to  maintain  a  poor 
living ;  of  such  as  labour  in  body  and  mind,  live  in  ex- 
treme anguish  and  pain ;  all  which  thou  art  freed  from ! 
' '  O  f  ortunatos  nimium  sua  si  bona  ndrint !  "  Thou  art 
most  happy,  if  thou  couldst  be  content  and  acknowledge 
thy  happiness  ;  reni  carendo,  non  fmendo,  cognoscimus  ; 


POLONIUS.  457 

when  thou  shalt  hereafter  come  to  want  that  which  thou 
now  loathest,  abhorrest,  and  art  weary  of  and  tired  with, 
when 't  is  past,  thou  wilt  say  thon  wert  most  happy ;  and 
after  a  little  miss,  wish  with  all  thine  heart  thou  hadst 
the  same  content  again  —  mightest  lead  but  such  a  life 

—  a  world  for  such  a  life !  the  remembrance  of  it  is  pleas- 
ant.     Be  silent  then:  rest  satisfied  —  desine ;  intuens- 
que  in  aliorum  infortimia  solare  menteni ;  comfort  thyself 
with  other  men's  misfortunes ;  and  as  the  mouldiwarp 
in  ^Esop  told  the  fox,  complaining  for  want  of  a  tail,  and 
the  rest  of  his  companions  —  Tacete,  quando  me  oculis 
captum  videtis  —  "  You  complain  of  toys ;  but  I  am  blind 

—  be  quiet "  —  I  say  to  thee,  Be  satisfied.    It  is  recorded 
of  the  hares,  that  with  a  general  consent  they  went  to 
drown  themselves,  out- of  a  feeling  of  their  misery;  but 
when  they  saw  a  company  of  frogs  more  fearful  than 
they  were,  they  began  to  take   courage  and  comfort 
again.  Confer  thine  estate  with  others.  Similes  aliorum 
respice  casus,  Mitius  ista  feres.     Be  content,  and  rest 
satisfied,  for  thou  art  well  in  respect  of  others :  be  thank- 
ful for  that  thou  hast ;  that  God  hath  done  for  thee ;  he 
hath  not  made  thee  a  monster,  a  beast,  a  base  creature, 
as  he  might ;   but  a  Man,  a  Christian  —  such  a  man.— 
Consider  aright  of  it,  thou  art  full  well  as  thou  art. 

Burton, 

FOR   EVERY    ILL    BEXEATH    THE    SUN 

THERE    IS    SOME    REMEDY,    OR    NONE. 

SHOULD    THERE    BE    ONE,    RESOLVE    TO    FIXD    IT  ; 

IF    NOT,    SUBMIT,    AND    NEVER    MIND  IT. 


INDEX. 


Action  and  Aspiration,  403,  446. 

^Esthetics,  453. 

Anger,  436. 

Art,  443. 

Atheism,  386,  448. 

Avarice,  430. 

Best  in  the  Barrel,  383. 
Building,  369. 

Calling  — Choice  of,  408. 
Chivalry  —  New,  374. 
Content,  375,  444. 
Conversation,  &c.,  376,  394. 
Cure  or  Endure,  354. 
Curiosity,  438. 

Date  and  Dabitur,  416. 
Diplomacy,  410. 
Disputes,  424. 
Dives,  372. 

Eagles  no  Fly-catchers,  417. 

Envy,  409. 

Every-body's  Fable,  351. 

Expense,  407. 

Eye  —  what  it  Sees,  359. 

Fame,  431. 

Forgive  and  Forget,  362. 

Forms  and  Ceremonies,  368. 

of  Behaviour,  423. 
Found  by  one's  Sin,  364. 
Friendship,  428. 
Fun  in  the  Fiddle,  357. 

Genius,  423. 

Gentleman,  377,  378,  427. 
Giving  and  Asking,  400. 
Government  —  Art  of,  449. 
Guile  and  Gxiilelessness,  388.  385. 
Guilt,  397. 


Handful  of  Arrows,  451. 
Have  at  it,  have  it,  435. 
History  —  Eye  for,  441. 
Honesty,  356. 
Humanity,  395. 
Hypocrisy,  447. 

Idleness,  369. 
Ignotum  Magniflcum,  436. 
Imaginary  Evils,  402. 
Inconstancy,  362. 
Indifference,  370. 

[379. 

Knowledge,     Opinion,   Ignorance, 
and  Half-knowledge,  370. 

Lavater  —  Chapter  from,  389. 

Learning,  390,  442. 

Liberty,  397. 

Life,  400. 

Lighting  the  Torch,  432. 

Looking-glass,  433. 

Lot  in  Life,  455. 

Love,  406. 

Melancholy  and  Madness,  450. 
Mercy  and  Valour,  354. 
Mimicry,  392. 
Modesty,  419. 
Music,  422. 

Native  Air,  395. 
Nature  and  Habit,  419. 

Old  Age,  387. 
Oratory,  445. 

Pedigree,  438. 
Pegasus  in  Harness.  380. 
Penny  Wise.  &c.,  354. 
Petit  a  Petit,  451. 
Philosopher.  352. 


460 


INDEX. 


Poetry,  396. 

Polemics,  439. 

Poor— the,  362. 

Poverty  and  Riches,  394,  407. 

Power  and  Place,  351,  376,  361,  410. 

Precedence,  401. 

Prejudice,  421,  447. 

Quid  pro  Quo,  433. 

Religion,  424,  425. 
River  —  the  Great,  365. 
Rolling  Stone,  427,  437. 

Satiety,  388. 

Say-Well  and  Do- Well,  443. 
Second  Thoughts,  454. 
Seed-sowing,  357. 
Self-Contemplation,  371. 

Knowledge,  416. 

Love,  420. 

Judging  of  others,  420. 

Isolation,  382. 
Sickness,  410. 
Socratis  Paternoster,  399. 
Solitude,  440. 
Solomon's  Seal,  433. 
Soul  is  the  Man,  431. 


Studies,  426. 
Superstition,  418. 

Taste,  374. 
Teaching,  411. 
Three  Races,  364,  434. 
Time  of  Day,  440. 
Thought-tossing,  450. 
To-day  and  To-morrow,  384. 
To-morrow  and  To-morrow,  365. 
Tory,  412. 

Touch  Pitch ,  440. 

Travel,  381. 

Truth  and  Justice,  407. 

Vanity,  396,  446. 
Vent  au  Visage,  401. 

War,  405. 

Weakness  and  Falsity,  368,  374. 

Weight  and  Worth,  384. 

Will  and  Reason,  393. 

Will  and  Wish,  358. 

Wit,  350,  388. 

Words  and  Deeds,  378. 

World  we  live  in,  434. 

World's  Pulse,  373,  381. 

Writing  Well,  412. 


r 


ESSAYS  ON  CRABBE. 


INTRODUCTION 

TO    A    VOLUME    OF 

READINGS  IN  CRABBE. 

"TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 


[PUBLISHED  BY  BERNARD  QUARITCH,  LONDON;   1882.] 

>> 


CRABBE'S   "TALES   OF  THE  HALL." 


OF  THE  HALL,"  says  the  Poet's  son  and 
biographer,  occupied  his  father  during  the  years 
1817,  1818,  and  were  published  by  John  Murray  in  the 
following  year  under  the  present  title,  which  he  sug- 
gested, instead  of  that  of  "  Remembrances,"  which  had 
been  originally  proposed. 

The  plan  and  nature  of  the  work  are  thus  described 
by  the  author  himself  in  a  letter  written  to  his  old 
friend,  Mary  Leadbetter,  and  dated  October  30,  1817 : 

"I  know  not  how  to  describe  the  new,  and  probably  (most 
probably)  the  last  work  I  shall  publish.  Though  a  village  is  the 
scene  of  meeting  between  my  two  principal  characters,  and  gives 
occasion  to  other  characters  and  relations  in  general,  yet  I  no 
more  describe  the  manners  of  village  inhabitants.  My  people  are 
of  superior  classes,  though  not  the  most  elevated ;  and,  with  a 
few  exceptions,  are  of  educated  and  cultivated  minds  and  habits. 
I  do  not  know,  on  a  general  view,  whether  my  tragic  or  lighter 
Tales,  etc.,  are  most  in  number.  Of  those  equally  well  executed, 
the  tragic  will,  I  suppose,  make  the  greater  impression  ;  but  I 
know  not  that  it  requires  more  attention." 

"  The  plan  of  the  work,"  says  Jeffrey,  in  a  succinct,  if  not  quite 
exact,  epitome  —"for  it  has  more  of  plan  and  unity  than  any  of 
Mr.  Crabbe's  former  productions  —  is  abundantly  simple.  Two 
brothers,  both  past  middle  age,  meet  together  for  the  first  time 
since  their  infancy,  in  the  Hall  of  their  native  parish,  which  the 
elder  and  richer  had  purchased  as  a  place  of  retirement  for  his 
declining  age;  and  there  tell  each  other  their  own  history,  and 
then  that  of  their  guests,  neighbours,  and  acquaintances.  The 
senior  is  much  the  richer,  and  a  bachelor  —  having  been  a  little 


80 


> 


466          CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 

distasted  with  the  sex  by  the  unlucky  result  of  a  very  extravagant 
passion.  He  is,  moreover,  rather  too  reserved,  and  somewhat 
Toryish,  though  with  an  excellent  heart  and  a  powerful  under- 
standing. The  younger  is  very  sensible  also,  but  more  open, 
social,  and  talkative ;  a  happy  husband  and  father,  with  a 
tendency  to  Whiggism,  and  some  notion  of  reform,  and  a  dispo- 
sition to  think  well  both  of  men  and  women.  The  visit  lasts  two 
or  three  weeks  in  autumn ;  and  the  Tales  are  told  in  the  after- 
dinner  tSte-d-tetes  that  take  place  in  that  time  between  the  worthy 
brothers  over  their  bottle. 

"The  married  man,  however,  wearies  at  length  for  his  wife 
and  children;  and  his  brother  lets  him  go  with  more  coldness 
than  he  had  expected.  He  goes  with  him  a  stage  on  the  way ; 
and,  inviting  him  to  turn  aside  a  little  to  look  at  a  new  purchase 
he  had  made  of  a  sweet  farm  with  a  neat  mansion,  he  finds  his 
wife  and  children  comfortably  settled  there,  and  all  ready  to 
receive  them  ;  and  speedily  discovers  that  he  is,  by  his  brother's 
bounty,  the  proprietor  of  a  fair  domain  within  a  morning's  ride  of 
the  Hall,  where  they  may  discuss  politics,  and  tell  tales  any 
afternoon  they  may  think  proper." — Eflinburgli  Review,  1819. 

The  scene  has  also  changed  with  Drama  and  Dramatis 
Personae :  no  longer  now  the  squalid  purlieus  of  old, 
inhabited  by  paupers  and  ruffians,  with  the  sea  on  one 
side,  and  as  barren  a  heath  on  the  other ;  in  place  of 
that,  a  village,  with  its  tidy  homestead  and  well-to-do 
tenant,  scattered  about  an  ancient  Hall,  in  a  well- 
wooded,  well-watered,  well-cultivated  country,  within 
easy  reach  of  a  thriving  country  town,  and 

"West  of  the  waves,  and  just  beyond  the  sound," 

of  that  old  familiar  sea,  which  (with  all  its  sad  associa- 
tions) the  Poet  never  liked  to  leave  far  behind  him. 

When  he  wrote  the  letter  above  quoted  (two  years 
before  the  publication  of  his  book)  he  knew  not  whether 


GBABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL."         467 

his  tragic  exceeded  the  lighter  stories  in  quantity, 
though  he  supposed  they  would  leave  the  deeper 
impression  on  the  reader.  In  the  completed  work  I  find 
the  tragic  stories  fewer  in  number,  and.  to  my  think- 
ing, assuredly  not  more  impressive  than  such  as  are 
composed  of  that  mingled  yarn  of  grave  and  gay  of 
which  the  kind j)f  life  he  treats  of  is,  I  suppose,  gener- 
ally made  up.  "  Nature's  sternest  Painter"  may  have 
mellowed  with  a  prosperous  old  age,  and,  from  a  com- 
fortable grand-climacteric,  liked  to  contemplate  and 
represent  a  brighter  aspect  of  humanity  than  his  earlier 
life  afforded  him.  Anyhow,  he  has  here  selected  a  sub- 
ject whose  character  and  circumstance  require  a  lighter 
touch  and  shadow  less  dark  than  such  as  he  formerly 
delineated. 

Those  who  now  tell  their  own  as  well  as  their  neigh- 
bours' stories  are  much  of  the  Poet's  own  age  as  well  as 
condition  of  life,  and  look  back  (as  he  may  have  looked) 
with  what  Sir  Walter  Scott  calls  a  kind  of  humorous 
retrospect  over  their  own  lives,  cheerfully  extending  to 
others  the  same  kindly  indulgence  which  they  solicit 
for  themselves.  The  book,  if  I  mistake  not,  deals 
rather  with  the  follies  than  with  the  vices  of  men,  with 
the  comedy  rather  than  the  tragedy  of  life.  Assuredly 
there  is  scarce  anything  of  that  brutal  or  sordid  vil- 
lainy1 of  which  one  has  more  than  enough  in  the 

1 1  think,  only  one  story  of  the  baser  sort — "Gretna  Green" — a 
capital,  if  not  agreeable,  little  drama  in  which  all  the  characters 
defeat  themselves  by  the  very  means  they  take  to  deceive  others. 


468    CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 

Poet's  earlier  work.  And  even  the  more  sombre  sub- 
jects of  the  book  are  relieved  by  the  colloquial  inter- 
course of  the  narrators,  which  twines  about  every  story, 
and,  letting  in  occasional  glimpses  of  the  country 
round,  encircles  them  all  with  something  of  dramatic 
unity  and  interest;  insomuch  that  of  all  the  Poet's 
works  this  one  alone  does  not  leave  a  more  or  less 
melancholy  impression  upon  me ;  and,  as  I  am  myself 
more  than  old  enough  to  love  the  sunny  side  of  the 
wall,  is  on  that  account,  I  do  not  say  the  best,  but  cer- 
tainly that  which  best  I  like,  of  all  his  numerous 
offspring. 

Such,  however,  is  not  the  case,  I  think,  with  Crabbe's 
few  readers,  who,  like  Lord  Byron,  chiefly  remember 
him  by  the  sterner  realities  of  his  earlier  work.  Nay, 
quite  recently  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,  in  that  one  of  his 
admirable  essays  which  analyses  the  Poet's  peculiar 
genius,  says : 

"  The  more  humorous  portions  of  these  performances  may  be 
briefly  dismissed.  Crabbe  possessed  the  faculty,  but  not  in  any 
eminent  degree  ;  his  tramp  is  a  little  heavy,  and  one  must  remem- 
ber that  Mr.  Tovell  and  his  like  were  of  the  race  who  require  to 
have  a  joke  driven  into  their  heads  by  a  sledge-hammer.  Some- 
times, indeed,  we  come  upon  a  sketch  which  may  help  to  explain 
Miss  Austen's  admiration.  There  is  an  old  maid  devoted  to  china, 
and  rejoicing  in  stuffed  parrots  and  puppies,  who  might  have 
been  another  Emma  Woodhouse  ;  and  a  Parson  who  might  have 
suited  the  Eltons  admirably." 

The  spinster  of  the  stuffed  parrot  indicates,  I  sup- 
pose, the  heroine  of  "  Procrastination "  in  another 
series  of  tales.  But  Miss  Austen,  I  think,  might  also 


CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL."         469 

have  admired  another,  although  more  sensible,  spinster 
in  these,  who  tells  of  her  girlish  and  only  love  while 
living  with  the  grandmother  who  maintained  her  gentil- 
ity in  the  little  town  she  lived  in  at  the  cost  of  such 
little  economies  as  "  would  scarce  a  parrot  keep  ;  "  and 
the  story  of  the  romantic  friend  who,  having  proved 
the  vanity  of  human  bliss  by  the  supposed  death  of  a 
young  lover,  has  devoted  herself  to  his  memory  ;  inso- 
much that  as  she  is  one  fine  autumnal  day  protesting 
in  her  garden  that,  were  he  to  be  restored  to  her  in  all 
his  youthful  beauty,  she  would  renounce  the  real  rather 
than  surrender  the  ideal  Hero  awaiting  her  elsewhere  — 
behold  him  advancing  toward  her  in  the  person  of  a 
prosperous,  portly  merchant,  who  reclaims,  and,  after 
some  little  hesitation  on  her  part,  retains  her  hand. 

There  is  also  an  old  Bachelor  whom  Miss  Austen 
might  have  liked  to  hear  recounting  the  matrimonial 
attempts  which  have  resulted  in  the  full  enjoyment  of 
single  blessedness ;  his  father's  sarcastic  indifference  to 
the  first,  and  the  haughty  defiance  of  the  mother  of  the 
girl  he  first  loved.  And  when  the  young  lady's  un- 
timely death  has  settled  that  question,  his  own  indiffer- 
ence to  the  bride  his  own  mother  has  provided  for  him. 
And  when  that  scheme  has  failed,  and  yet  another  after 
that,  and  the  Bachelor  feels  himself  secure  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  more  than  middle  life  having  come  upon 
him,  his  being  captivated  —  and  jilted  —  by  a  country 
Miss,  toward  whom  he  is  so  imperceptibly  drawn  at  her 
father's  house  that 


. 


470    CRABBE'S  "TALES  OP  THE  HALL." 

"  Time  after  time  the  maid  went  out  and  in, 
Ere  love  was  yet  beginning  to  begin ; 
The  first  awakening  proof,  the  early  doubt, 
Rose  from  observing  she  went  in  and  out." 

Then  there  is  a  fair  Widow,  who,  after  wearing  out 
one  husband  with  her  ruinous  tantrums,  finds  herself 
all  the  happier  for  being  denied  them  by  a  second.  And 
when  he  too  is  dead,  and  the  probationary  year  of 
mourning  scarce  expired,  her  scarce  ambiguous  refusal 
(followed  by  acceptance)  of  a  third  suitor,  for  whom 
she  is  now  so  gracefully  wearing  her  weeds  as  to  invite 
a  fourth. 

If  "Love's  Delay"  be  of  a  graver  complexion,  is 
there  not  some  even  graceful  comedy  in  "Love's 
Natural  Death ; "  some  broad  comedy  —  too  true  to  be 
farce  —  in  "William  Bailey's"  old  housekeeper;  and 
up  and  down  the  book  surely  many  passages  of  gayer 
or  graver  humour;  such  as  the  Squire's  satire  on  his 
own  house  and  farm;  his  brother's  account  of  the 
Vicar,  whose  daughter  he  married ;  the  gallery  of  por- 
traits in  the  "  Cathedral  Walk,"  besides  many  a  shrewd 
remark  so  tersely  put  that  I  should  call  them  epigram 
did  not  Mr.  Stephen  think  the  Poet  incapable  of  such ; 
others  so  covertly  implied  as  to  remind  one  of  old  John 
Murray's  remark  on  Mr.  Crabbe's  conversation  —  that 
he  said  uncommon  things  in  so  common  a  way  as  to 
escape  notice;  though  assuredly  not  the  notice  of  so 
shrewd  an  observer  as  Mr.  Stephen  if  he  cared  to  listen, 
or  to  read. 


CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL."         471 

Nevertheless,  with  all  my  own  partiality  for  this 
book,  I  must  acknowledge  that,  while  it  shares  with 
the  Poet's  other  works  in  his  characteristic  disregard 
of  form  and  diction  —  of  all  indeed  that  is  now  called 
"Art" — it  is  yet  more  chargeable  with  diffuseness, 
and  even  with  some  inconsistency  of  character  and  cir- 
cumstance, for  which  the  large  canvas  he  had  taken  to 
work  on,  and  perhaps  some  weariness  in  filling  it  up,1 
may  be  in  some  measure  accountable.  So  that,  for  one 
reason  or  another,  but  very  few  of  Crabbe's  few  readers 
care  to  encounter  the  book.  And  hence  this  attempt 

1  A  Journal  that  he  kept  in  1817  shows  that  some  part  of  the 
book  was  composed,  not  in  the  leisurely  quiet  of  his  country 
Parsonage,  or  the  fields  around  it,  but  at  the  self-imposed  rate  of 
thirty  lines  a  day,  in  the  intervals  between  the  dejeuners,  dinners, 
and  soirees  of  a  London  season,  in  which,  "seeing  much  that 
was  new,"  he  says:  "I  was  perhaps  something  of  a  novelty 
myself" — was,  in  fact,  the  new  lion  in  fashion. 

"Julyo. —  My  thirty  lines  done,  but  not  very  well,  I  fear. 
Thirty  daily  is  the  self-engagement. 

"JnJyS. —  Thirty  lines  to-day,  but  not  yesterday.  Must 
work  up. 

"  July  10. —  Make  up  my  thirty  lines  for  yesterday  and  to-day. 

"  Sunday,  July  15  (after  a  sermon  at  St.  James's,  in  which  the 
preacher  thought  proper  to  apologise  for  a  severity  which  he  had 
not  used).  Write  some  lines  in  the  solitude  of  Somerset  House, 
not  fifty  yards  from  the  Thames  on  one  side,  and  the  Strand  on 
the  other ;  but  as  quiet  as  the  sands  of  Arabia.'' 

Then  leaving  London  for  his  Trowbridge  home,  and  staying  by 
the  way  at  the  home  of  a  friend  near  "Wycombe  — 

"  July  23.— A  vile  engagement  to  an  Oratorio  at  the  church  by 
I  know  not  how  many  noisy  people,  women  as  well  as  men. 
Luckily,  I  sat  where  I  could  write  unobserved,  and  wrote  forty 
liues,  only  interrupted  by  a  song  of  Mrs.  Brand  (Bland.')  —  ;! 
hymn,  I  believe.  It  was  less  doleful  than  the  rest/' 


472         GRABBERS  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 

of  mine  to  entice  them  to  it  by  an  abstract,  omitting 
some  of  the  stories,  retrenching  others,  either  by 
excision  of  some  parts,  or  the  reduction  of  others  into 
as  concise  prose  as  would  comprehend  the  substance  of 
much  prosaic  verse. 

Not  a  very  satisfactory  sort  of  medley  in  any  such 
case;  I  know  not  if  more  or  less  so  where  verse  and 
prose  are  often  so  near  akin.  I  see,  too;  that  in  some 
cases  they  are  too  patchily  intermingled.  But  I  have 
tried,  though  not  always  successfully,  to  keep  them 
distinct,  and  to  let  the  Poet  run  on  by  himself  when- 
ever in  his  better  vein;  in  two  cases  —  that  of  the 
"  Widow"  and  "  Love's  Natural  Death  " —  without  any 
interruption  of  my  own,  though  not  without  large 
deductions  from  the  author  in  the  former  story. 

On  the  other  hand,  more  than  as  many  other  stories 
have  shrunk  under  my  hands  into  seeming  dispropor- 
tion with  the  Prologue  by  which  the  Poet  introduces 
them ;  insomuch  as  they  might  almost  as  well  have 
been  cancelled  were  it  not  for  carrying  their  introduc- 
tion away  with  them.1 

And  such  alterations  have  occasionally  necessitated 
a  change  in  some  initial  article  or  particle  connecting 
two  originally  separated  paragraphs ;  of  which  I  sub- 
join a  list,  as  also  of  a  few  that  have  inadvertently 
crept  into  the  text  from  the  margin  of  my  copy ;  all,  I 

1  As  "  Eiehard's  Jealousy,"  "Sir  Owen  Dale's  Revenge,"  the 
"Cathedral  Walk,"  in  which  the  Poet's  diffuse  treatment  seemed 
to  me  scarcely  compensated  by  the  interest  of  the  story. 


CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 


473 


thought,  crossed  out  before  going  to  press.i  For  any 
poetaster  can  amend  many  a  careless  expression  which 
blemishes  a  passage  that  none  but  a  poet  could  indite. 

I  have  occasionally  transposed  the  original  text, 
especially  when  I  thought  to  make  the  narrative  run 
clearer  by  so  doing.  For  in  that  respect,  whether  from 
lack  or  laxity  of  constructive  skill,  Crabbe  is  apt  to 
wander  and  lose  himself  and  his  reader.  This  was 
shown  especially  in  some  prose  novels,  which  at  one  time 
he  tried  his  hand  on,  and  (his  son  tells  us),  under  good 
advice,  committed  to  the  fire. 

I  have  replaced  in  the  text  some  readings  from  the 
Poet's  original  MS.  quoted  in  his  son's  standard  edition, 
several  of  which  appeared  to  me  fresher,  terser,  and  (as 

1  Page  28.  "  Sounds  too  delight  us." 

"  36.  "Neither  after-time  nor  adventure,"  etc. 

"  40.  "  And  some  sad  story  appertained  to  each." 

"  41.  "  Nor  had  a  husband  for  licr  only  son." 

"  42.  "Her  will  self-goverii'd,  and  Mwtask'd." 

"  46.  "Rolled  o'er  lier  body  as  she  lay,"  etc. 

"  56.  "  (Prose.)     "  Two  ladies  walking  arm  in  arm,"  etc. 

"  75.  "  When  time  and  reason  our  affliction  heal." 

"  76.  "In-ill  be  brief,"  etc. 

"  76.  "  Tinniest  thou  that  meekness,  self,"  etc. 

"  87.  "  Begins  to  exert  her  salutary  influence." 

"  92.  "  Vfejudf/e,  the  heroic  men  of  whom  we  read." 

•'  93.  "But  irliat  could  urge  me  at  a  day  so  late." 

"  96.  "  Then  fairly  gare  the  secret  of  her  heart." 

"  108.  "  Or  mine  had  been  my  gentle  Mattie  now." 

"  116.  "  I  had  some  pity  and  I  soutjlit  the  price." 

"  133.  "Would  make  such  faces  and  assume  such  looks." 

"  214.  "Told  him   lie  pardon'd,  though   he   blamed   such 

rage." 

"  218.  "  He  entered  softly." 


• 


474    CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 

so  often  the  case)  more  apt  than  the  second  thought 
afterward  adopted.1 

Mr.  Stephen  has  said  —  and  surely  said  well  —  that, 
with  all  its  short-  and  long-comings,  Crabbe's  better 
work  leaves  its  mark  on  the  reader's  mind  and  memory 
as  only  the  work  of  genius  can,  while  so  many  a  more 
splendid  vision  of  the  fancy  slips  away,  leaving  scarce 
a  wrrack  behind.  If  this  abiding  impression  result  (as 
perhaps  in  the  case  of  Richardson  or  Wordsworth) 
from  being,  as  it  were,  soaked  in  through  the  longer 
process  by  which  the  man's  peculiar  genius  works,  any 
abridgment,  whether  of  omission  or  epitome,  will 
diminish  from  the  effect  of  the  whole.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  may  serve,  as  I  have  said,  to  attract  a  reader 
to  an  original  which,  as  appears  in  this  case,  scarce 
anybody  now  cares  to  venture  upon  in  its  integrity. 

I  feel  bound  to  make  all  apology  for  thus  dealing 
with  a  Poet  whose  works  are  ignored,  even  if  his  name 
be  known,  by  the  readers  and  writers  of  the  present 
generation.  "  Pope  in  worsted  stockings"  he  once  was 
called ;  and  those  stockings,  it  must  be  admitted,  often 
down  at  heel,  and  begrimed  by  many  a  visit  among 
the  dreary  resorts  of  "pauvre  et  triste  Immanlti"  And 

1  A  curious  instance  occurs  in  that  fair  Widow's  story,  when  the 
original 

"  Would  you  believe  it,  Richard,  that  fair  she 

Has  had  three  husbands  —  I  repeat  it,  three  !  " 
is  supplanted  by  the  very  enigmatical  couplet : 

"Would  you  believe  it,  Richard?  that  fair  dame 
Has  thrice  resign'd  and  reassumed  her  name." 


CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL."         475 

if  Pope,  in  his  silken  court  suit,  scarcely  finds  admit- 
tance to  the  modern  Parnassus,  how  shall  Crabbe  with 
his  homely  gear  and  awkwarder  gait?  Why  had  he 
not  kept  to  level  prose,  more  suitable,  some  think,  to 
the  subject  he  treats  of,  and  to  his  own  genius  ?  As  to 
subject,  Pope,  who  said  that  Man  was  man's  proper 
study,  treated  of  finer  folks  indeed,  but  not  a  whit 
more  or  less  than  men  and  women,  nor  the  more  life- 
like for  the  compliment  or  satire  with  which  he  set 
them  off.  And,  for  the  manner,  he  and  Horace  in  his 
Epistles  and  Satires,  and  the  comedy-writers  of  Greece, 
Rome,  Spain,  and  France,  availed  themselves  of  Verse, 
through  which  (and  especially  when  clenched  with 
rhyme)  the  condensed  expression,  according  to  Mon- 
taigne, rings  out  as  breath  through  a  trumpet.  I  do 
not  say  that  Comedy  (whose  Dramatic  form  Crabbe 
never  aimed  at)  was  in  any  wise  his  special  vocation, 
though  its  shrewder  —  not  to  say,  saturnine  —  element 
runs  through  all  except  his  earliest  work,  and  some- 
what of  its  lighter  humour  is  revealed  in  his  last. 
And,  if  Verse  has  been  the  chosen  organ  of  Comedy 
proper,  it  assuredly  cannot  be  less  suitable  for  the 
expression  of  those  more  serious  passions  of  which 
this  Poet  most  generally  treats,  and  which  are  nowhere 
more  absolutely  developed  than  amid  the  classes  of  men 
with  which  he  had  been  so  largely  interested.  And 
whatever  one  may  think  Crabbe  makes  of  it,  verse  was 
the  mode  of  utterance  to  which  his  genius  led  him 
from  first  to  last  (his  attempt  at  prose  having  failed)  ; 


2k 


171 


3E  =^ 

476          CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL." 

and  if  we  are  to  have  him  at  all,  we  must  take  him  in 
his  own  way. 

Is  he  then,  whatever  shape  he  may  take,  worth  mak- 
ing room  for  in  our  overcrowded  heads  and  libraries  ? 
If  the  verdict  of  such  critics  as  Jeffrey  and  Wilson  be 
set  down  to  contemporary  partiality  or  inferior 
"  culture/'  there  is  Miss  Austen,  who  is  now  so  great 
an  authority  in  the  representation  of  genteel  humanity, 
so  unaccountably  smitten  with  Crabbe  in  his  worsted 
hose  that  she  is  said  to  have  pleasantly  declared  he 
was  the  only  man  whom  she  would  care  to  marry.1  If 
Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Byron  are  but  unsesthetic  judges 
of  the  Poet,  there  is  Wordsworth,  who  was  sufficiently 
exclusive  in  admitting  any  to  the  sacred  brotherhood 
in  which  he  still  reigns,  and  far  too  honest  to  make 
any  exception  out  of  compliment  to  anyone  on  any 
occasion — he  did,  nevertheless,  thus  write  to  the 
Poet's  son  and  biographer  in  1834  :2  "Any  testimony 
to  the  merit  of  your  revered  father's  works  would,  I 
feel,  be  superfluous,  if  not  impertinent.  They  will  last, 
from  their  combined  merits  as  poetry  and  truth,  full  as 
long  as  anything  that  has  been  expressed  in  verse  since 
they  first  made  their  appearance  " —  a  period  which,  be 
it  noted,  includes  all  Wordsworth's  own  volumes 
except  "  Yarrow  Revisited,"  "  The  Prelude,'1  and  "  The 

1 1  will  add  what,  in  his  lately  published  "  Kemmiseences,"  Mr. 
Mozley  tells  us,  that  Crabbe  was  a  favourite  with  no  less  shrewd  a 
reader  of  Humanity  than  Cardinal  Newman. 

2  See  Vol.  II.,  p.  8-4.  of  the  complete  Edition,  1834. 


CRABBE'S  "TALES  OF  THE  HALL."    477 

Borderers."  And  Wordsworth's  living  successor  to  the 
laurel  no  less  participates  with  him  in  his  appreciation 
of  their  forgotten  brother.  Almost  the  last  time  I  met 
him  he  was  quoting  from  memory  that  fine  passage  in 
"  Delay  has  Danger/'  where  the  late  autumn  landscape 
seems  to  borrow  from  the  conscience-stricken  lover 
who  gazes  on  it  the  gloom  which  it  reflects  upon  him  ; 
and  in  the  Qourse  of  further  conversation  on  the  subject, 
Mr.  Tennyson  added,  "  Crabbe  has  a  world  of  his 
own  ; "  by  virtue  of  that  original  genius,  I  suppose, 
which  is  said  to  entitle,  and  carry,  the  possessor  to 
what  we  call  Immortality. 


A    001051265    5 


-  fiS 


i':ct.«" 


• 


OaOKKJL'iLK 


•§:  Iri  j|'  <f  sd.      ^  3MJ 


i 
1 


rnrw 


, 


*^: 


• 


-,. 

^KMJIK^ 

^-lP^W#e ..'  -   <v /:-*^'?Wafc.:'^P--:8.^^W.' 


. 


It  A  '4L  -it  .'.'ll 


